THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


HIGHLAND  LIGHT 


THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 

NEW  YORK    •    BOSTON   •    CHICAGO  •    DALLAS 
ATLANTA  •    SAN   FRANCISCO 

MACMILLAN  &   CO.,  LIMITED 

LONDON   •    BOMBAY  •    CALCUTTA 
MELBOURNE 

THE  MACMILLAN  CO.  OF  CANADA,  LTD. 

TORONTO 


HIGHLAND    LIGHT 

AND   OTHER  POEMS 


BY 
HENRY   ADAMS   BELLOWS 


U3eto  gotfe 

THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 
1921 

All  rights  reserved 


COPYRIGHT,  1921, 
BY  THE  MACMILLAN  COMPANY 


up  and  electrotyped.     Published,  February,  1921 


3  ft  5 


TO 
MY  MOTHER 


602183 


ACKNOWLEDGMENT 

MANY  of  the  poems  in  this  collection  have  ap- 
peared in  magazines,  and  acknowledgment  of  per- 
mission to  republish  them  here  is  due  to  the 
proprietors  of  The  Bellman,  Scribner's  Magazine, 
The  Poetry  Review  of  America,  The  American- 
Scandinavian  Review,  Puck  and  The  Harvard 
Monthly. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

HIGHLAND  LIGHT 1 

LEAVES 9 

AFTER  SUNSET  IN  THE  KOCKIES 13 

THE  SONG  OF  THE  SHIP 16 

THE  VALLEY  OF  DRY  BONES 19 

SUNRISE  IN  VINEYARD  SOUND .  29 

WEST  AND  EAST 32 

DON  JUAN  TO  THE  STATUE 34 

TARPAULIN  COVE 41 

FAITH 43 

THE  DEATH-SONG  OF  EGILL  THE  SON  OF  GRIM  .     .  45 

ON  OFFENBACH'S  "  TALES  OF  HOFFMANN  "  .     .     .  54 

STORM  AT  SEA 55 

LEUCONOE 57 

BURIAL 58 

BEGGARS  IN  AMERICA 59 

To  THE  MIDDLE  AGES 64 

THE  SHADOW 65 

NIL  DESPERANDUM .66 

THE  SHORE 67 

ON  THE  TRAIN  — MARCH 72 

THE  VOYAGERS 74 

[ix] 


C  O  N  T  E  N'T  S 

PAGE 

EVENING  SONG 77 

MARSTON  MOOR 78 

ON  AN  ICELANDIC  SKALD 79 

UNDROWNED 80 

FEBRUARY 86 

TWENTY-ONE        89 

WEST  WIND 90 

DRESSES 92 

APRIL 96 

JULIET 97 

THE  TRIUMPH  OF  TAMBUBLAIXE 99 

WITH  A  BOOK  OF  POEMS 102 

FOUR  SONGS 1°3 

A  VlLLANELLE  OF  THE  GALLOWS 106 

THE  CARAVAN .  109 

THE  QUESTION 11° 

LONELINESS HI 

THE  LOVE  POTION H2 

THE  WITCH-CHILD 120 

LESBIA 122 

HARVARD  SONG 123 

BALLADE  OF  LENT 127 

THE  COST  OF  LIVING 129 

QUAM  MINIME  CREDULUS  POSTERO 131 

A  SPRING  SONG 133 

PROSPICE 135 


HIGHLAND  LIGHT 

QUIET  and  dark  and  pure, —  the  breeze, 
Awestruck,  no  more  the  silence  braves ; 
Only  the  beat  of  tiny  waves 
Echoes  spent  tumult  of  the  seas. 

For  this  has  sleep  its  blessing  kept, 
Sleep  and  the  sea,  to  guard  these  men 
Who  fought  with  hurricanes,  and  then 
Silently  laid  them  down,  and  slept. 

What  faith  is  yours,  that  you  can  sleep 
Knowing  your  peril's  utmost  reach, 
Who  never  framed  a  prayer  in  speech 
To  pierce  the  stillness  of  the  deep  ? 
[1] 


HIGHLAND   LIGHT 

Trusting  this  hand  upon  the  wheel, 
Sure  that  some  other  hand  tonight 
Would  wake  the  eye  of  yonder  light, 
Knowing  the  hand  that  laid  this  keel 

And  nailed  the  timbers  fast,  wrought  true, — 
Your  whole  lives  lie  in  hands  unknown, 
And  yet  you  sleep.     The  gales  have  blown 
In  vain  against  such  men  as  you. 

I  claim  your  faith  as  mine.     Untaught, 
You  never  learned  that  others'  art 
Could  speak  for  you,  nor  felt  the  heart 
Leap  answering  to  immortal  thought; 

Toiling  in  darkness,  you  would  win 
Living  from  life,  yet  found  your  way 
To  faith.     I,  seeking  more,  can  say 
The  best  I  found  is,  we  are  kin. 
[2] 


HIGHLAND   LIGHT 

So  is  it  you  stand  close  to  me 
As  never  those  who  prayed  and  then 
Set  themselves  o'er  their  fellow  men; 
I  wonder  if  they  know  the  sea, 

That  makes  their  God  seem  dim  and  small, 
Their  God  of  bribes,  and  chosen  days 
For  service,  and  their  forms  of  praise. 
I  wonder  if  they  pray  at  all 

Beneath  their  jargon.     Yes,  they  feel, 
Not  what  they  say,  or  what  they  claim 
That  they  believe,  but  all  the  same 
They  have  life's  blessing  when  they  kneel. 

Our  way  is  simpler,  but  our  eyes 
Are  no  less  steadfast.     So  you  sleep 
Tonight,  and  hands  from  out  the  deep 
Hold  you,  and  from  the  earth  and  skies. 
[3] 


HIGHLAND   LIGHT 

We  trust  each  other,  and  the  best 
Life  shows  is  only  this.     You  wrought, 
Unknowing,  to  give  faith,  and  taught 
That  truth  in  which  mankind  is  blessed. 

Why  should  I,  waking  while  you  sleep, 
Watch,  hand  on  wheel,  but  that  I  know 
Your  faith  has  made  a  debt  I  owe  ? 
And,  should  I  fail  you,  could  I  leap 

Harvest  of  faith  in  other  souls  ? 
How  could  I  know  that  yonder  light 
Will  gleam  till  morning  puts  to  flight 
The  shadows,  and  the  darkness  rolls 

Before  the  sunrise  ?     No,  we  live 
To  earn  the  hopes  men  have  of  us ; 
We  can  win  courage  only  thus, 
And  have  but  just  the  faith  we  give. 


HIGHLAND   LIGHT 

Oh,  what  a  peace  rests  on  the  sea 
Tonight!     The  stars  stand  still  awhile, 
Saving  for  one,  that  seems  to  smile 
Because  it,  too,  is  near  to  me. 

I  think  the  stars  love  one  another, 
Holding  their  ways  because  they  know 
How  each  goes  bravely  on,  and  so 
Rests  on  his  mate  as  on  a  brother. 

They  must  love.     Life  is  not  alone 
Of  trifles,  for  a  meteor  light 
Streams  through  impenetrable  night, 
And  love  makes  earth  and  sky  its  own. 

Then  darkness  never  falls  again 
On  us  who,  ere  the  lights  depart, 
Have  seen  laid  bare  a  human  heart, 
Have  known  its  beauty,  and  its  pain. 

[5] 


HIGHLAND   LIGHT 

So,  as  of  old  the  vision  came 
To  Moses  on  the  sacred  hill, 
The  ancient  glory  lights  us  still, 
And  we  are  never  more  the  same. 

We  are  the  soul  of  all  we  see, 
For  each  like  coral  reefs  is  built 
Of  others'  hopes,  and  loves,  and  guilt, 
A  myriad's  immortality. 

What  fabled  heaven  could  be  so  wide ! 
This  I  that  is  all  others  roams 
To  find  in  countless  hearts  new  homes, 
And  there,  undying,  shall  abide. 

Some  spirit  lifted  out  of  strife, 
Some  child  made  happier  by  a  word, 
Some  breast  by  beauty  once  more  stirred, 
Some  weary  soul  made  glad  of  life. 
[6] 


HIGHLAND   LIGHT 

So  we  joim  hands,  till  sails  are  furled 

In  harbor,  touching  other  souls 

As  wave  against  its  fellow  rolls 

To  send  its  heart-beat  round  the  world. 

What  need  is  left  for  bribe  or  threat? 
Why  should  the  spirit  beg  for  peace 
In  worlds  to  come  ?     It  cannot  cease ; 
Life,  seeming-blind,  does  not  forget 

Each  voice  today  is  echoing  clear 
That  ever  spoke  since  life  began; 
What  need  of  other  worlds  for  man 
Knowing  he  is  immortal  here? 

There  is  no  life  that  death  can  slay ; 
What  if  his  sudden  hand  should  smite 
Out  of  the  silence  of  the  night ; 
My  heaven  was  fashioned  day  by  day. 

En 


HIGHLAND   LIGHT 

I  ask  but  this,  to  serve  as  well 
As  yonder  light,  not  questioning  how 
But  faithful  to  its  duty  now ; 
What  more  it  never  seeks  to  tell. 

So,  guide  to  harbor  safely  these 
Your  comrades,  for  your  steady  light 
Stands  as  our  symbol  of  the  right, 
Life's  truth,  across  the  swaying  seas. 


[8] 


LEAVES 

DEAD  leaves, 

All  that  endures  of  a  golden  past, 

Brown  and  withered  and  falling  fast, 

Tears  the  tree  sheds  when  it  grieves 

Its  summer's  opulence  could  last 

Only  to  vanish  overnight. 

Dead  leaves  —  and  yet 

They  treasure  memories  of  life  and  light, 

Of  things  we  would  not  willingly  forget, 

And  hold  the  promise  of  a  waking  day, 

Earth  richened  by  decay 

To  youth  and  joy  once  more, 

To  bear  again 

The  glorious  burden  that  it  bore 

Through  centuries  of  pain 

Out  of  dead  leaves. 

[9] 


HIGHLAND   LIGHT 

Unmarked  they  lie, 

A  sadness  to  the  eye 

That  sees  no  more  than  they,  yet  this  one  leaf, 

Hueless  and  shrunk  and  old,  is  still 

A  symbol  of  all  joy  and  grief, 

Of  hope,  and  the  indomitable  will 

That  builds  the  living  future  on  the  wreck 

Of  present  failure.     In  its  texture  sere 

Lies  memory ;  its  brittle  'weakness  holds 

Promise  of  love,  of  summer  come  to  deck 

The  quickened  woods  with  radiance.     It  unfolds 

Immortal  language  to  the  listening  ear, 

And  yet  so  few  will  hear. 


Millions  of  leaves, 
Blown  to  the  waiting  earth 
That  gave  us  birth 

And  now  its  children  to  its  breast  receives; 
After  our  little  summer-time  of  life 
[10] 


LEAVES 

Torn  from  the  trees 

By  creeping  autumn,  or  by  gales  of  strife, 

Or  by  a  wanton  breeze, 

Some  falling  soon,  some  late; 

The  last  ones  wait, 

lonely  and  tremulous  and  very  old, 

The  touch  of  winter's  fingers  cold. 

Dead  leaves,  like  these  — 
And  yet  endure  the  ancient  trees 
We  nourished,  and  that  nourished  us  in  turn. 
The  earth  grows  younger  with  its  age, 
And  still  the  everlasting  fires  burn, 
And  birth  still  mocks  the  rage 
Of  all  the  winds  that  howl  above  the  graves 
Of  infinite  centuries.     And  each, 
So  silent,  so  unnoticed,  yet  can  teach 
The  utmost  mystery  of  life, 
The  love  that  heals,  the  hope  that  saves, 
[11] 


HIGHLAND   LIGHT 

The  quiet  after  strife. 

Each  smallest  one  is  all  the  world  remembers, 

And  all  for  which  it  grieves, 

And  all  the  flame  of  life's  undying  embers, 

And  summer  come  again, 

And  joy,  and  pain  — 

Dead  leaves. 


[12] 


AFTER  SUNSET  IN  THE  ROCKIES 

QUIETNESS  everywhere; 
The  lake,  that  but  an  hour  since  was  lashed 
Into  a  make-believe  of  ocean  rage, 
Now  lies  beneath  the  eyes  of  heaven  in  calm 
Inscrutable  peace,  its  twilight  extasy 

Too  pure  for  motion. 

All  around,  the  peaks, 
That  in  full  day  spoke  terribly  of  strength 
And  storm  and  struggle  and  of  victory, 
With  nightfall  put  their  battered  armor  off; 
Benignly  they  draw  near,  and  kindliness 

Is  in  their  silence. 

Darker  it  grows, 

And  stars  pierce  through  the  infinite  depths  of  sky ; 
[13] 


HIGHLAND   LIGHT 

The  colors  fade  and  vanish,  till  the  world  — 
The  silent  lake,  the  cliffs  and  jagged  peaks, 
The  star-strewn  vault  above  —  all  join  together 
In  blended  darkness. 

These  selfsame  crags 

But  now  were  resonant  with  Valkyr  shouts ; 
The  flames  of  battle  played  round  each  red  peak, 
And  through  the  air  the  cavalry  of  storm 
Drove  their  battalions,  while  the  trumpet  wind 

Sounded  the  charge. 

Peace  after  turmoil, 
A  peace  as  all-pervading  as  the  dark, 
That  purifies  the  heart  of  willfulness 
And  all  the  insignificance  of  care, 
Comes  with  the  silence  down  the  mountain-slopes, 

The  gift  of  night. 

Nor  time  nor  space 
Can  draw  their  shadowy  veils  around  the  lake 

[14] 


AFTER  SUNSET  IN  THE  ROCKIES 

Calmed  out  of  madness,  and  the  rugged  scars 
Healed  by  the  loving  fingers  of  the  night, 
While  in  the  sky  the  stars  came  quietly, 
And  with  them  peace. 


[15] 


THE  SONG  OF  THE  SHIP 

A  LONG  farewell  to  your  level  land, 

Your  fields  ploughed  deep  with  gold, 

Your  towns  where  the  great  gray  buildings  stand 

To  turn  the  sunshine  cold ; 

Enough  of  your  smoke  and  your  rattling  mills, 

You  prosperous,  thrifty  folk, 

With  your  tedious  joys  and  pallid  ills, 

For  it's  time  to  cast  the  yoke. 

The  surf  runs  strong  off  Highland  Light, 

And  the  tide  floods  over  the  Rip; 

The  Nausetts  are  blinking  across  the  night, 

And  I  hear  the  song  of  the  ship. 

Hark  to  the  spray  on  the  weather  bows 
Where  the  southeast  combers  break 
[16] 


THE   SONG   OF   THE   SHIP 

From  the  rhythmic  furrow  the  schooner  plows, 

And  the  gurgle  of  the  wake ; 

Hear  how  the  timbers  their  voices  raise 

To  the  roar  of  running  seas, 

The  vibrant  wail  of  the  windward  stays, 

And  the  steady  boom  of  the  breeze. 

The  surf  runs  strong  off  Highland  Light, 

And  the  tide  floods  over  the  Rip; 

The  Nausetts  are  Winking  across  the  night, 

And  I  hear  the  song  of  the  ship. 

Southeast  by  east  our  course  we  steer, 
Straight  down  for  the  Georges  Bank, 
With  only  the  northern  gale  to  fear, 
And  only  ourselves  to  thank; 
A  world  away  from  the  noise  and  fight 
Where  never  a  man  is  free, 
With  the  sun  by  day  and  the  stars  by  night, 
And  the  sky  and  the  wind  and  the  sea. 
[17] 


HIGHLAND   LIGHT 
The  surf  runs  strong  off  Highland  Light, 
And  the  tide  floods  over  the  Rip; 
The  Nausetts  are  'blinking  across  the  night, 
And  I  hear  the  song  of  the  ship. 


[181 


THE  VALLEY  OF  DRY  BONES 

The  Lord  set  me  down  in  the  midst  of  the  valley,  and  it 
was  full  of  bones;  and  he  said  unto  me:  Prophesy  over 
these  bones,  and  say  unto  them,  Thus  saith  the  Lord  God: 
Behold,  I  will  cause  breath  to  enter  into  you,  and  ye  shall 
live. 

Ezekiel,  37. 
****** 

WE  were  the  dwellers  in  the  valley, 
Moving  only  as  the  earth  moves  rocks  and  stones, 
Dry,  void  of  hope,  without  life, 
Yet  doing  all  that  is  the  business  of  bones. 
We  were  husband  and  wife, 
Son,  father  and  mother, 
Kinsmen  or  neighbors  one  to  another; 
We  were  many  things,  only  there  were  no  lovers 
Among  us  all,  for  the  spirit  of  love, 
The  soul  that  hovers 
Between  the  earth  and  heaven  above, 
[19] 


HIGHLAND   LIGHT 

Breathing  eternity  into  a  day, 

Had  fled  away, 

Shuddering,  from  the  desolate  valley. 

But  never  believe  we  were  idle;  nay, 
We  were  a  very  bee-hive  of  bonea. 
Life  there  is  even  where  soul  is  none ; 
The  oak-tree  groans 

When  the  gale  smites  it ;  the  fires  of  earth 
Hurl  rocks  vainly  against  the  sky, 
Mocking  the  mastery  of  the  sun 
And  teaching  the  ancient  hills  to  fly; 
So  among  us  there  was  birth, 
And  seemly,  decorous  death,  and  giving  in  mar- 
riage, 
After  the  immemorial  custom  of  bones  for  all  time. 

This  one,  with  the  lofty  carriage 
And  sightless  eyes,  we  chose  as  our  king, 
To  rule  us  by  old  laws,  without  will, 
[20] 


THE   VALLEY   OF   DRY   BONES 

Like  the  monarch  of  a  nursery  rhyme, 
Impotent  for  good  or  ill. 

That  one,  with  the  ring 

Gripping  the  knuckle  of  his  skeleton  hand, 

We  called  the  preacher  of  God's  word, 

And  bade  him  by  the  barren  altar  stand 

To  speak  the  message  that  he  never  heard. 

Oh,  we  were  busy  bones ;  we  bought 
And  sold,  grew  rich  or  poor,  we  taught, 
Nay,  sometimes  fought 
Without  passion  or  knowing  or  caring  why. 
But  mostly,  heaving  as  earth  bade  us, 
We  labored  dumbly  to  lay  by 
Treasure  of  roots  and  moss  and  stones, 
Fruitless,  since  we  were  nought  but  bones, 
And  the  grave  already  had  us. 

Weary  and  toiling  bones  were  we, 
Eyeless,  never  to  see 

[21] 


HIGHLAND   LIGHT 

The  cloudless  kiss  of  morning,  the  great  sweep 

Of  waters  marching  shoreward  from  the  deep, 

The  sunset's  walls  of  a  flaming  world, 

Or  the  lustrous  banner  of  night  unfurled ; 

Never  to  hear 

The  music  of  a  human  voice, 

Or  the  song  of  a  bird, 

The  quiver  of  a  passionate  word 

Aching  with  love,  or  hate,  or  fear; 

Never  to  make  foreseeing  choice 

Of  joy,  or  pain, 

Or  the  extasy  which  only  comes  again 

Enfolded  in  the  suffering  that  atones ;  — 

For  these  things  are  not  in  the  world  of  bones. 

And  then  he  spoke, 
The  prophet,  and  the  silence  broke 
In  thunder;  the  rocks  shouted;  the  waters  gave 
tongue 

[22] 


THE   VALLEY   OF  DRY  BONES 

To  the  omen ;  the  tired  earth  grew  young 
Beneath  a  rain  of  sunshine;  all  around 
The  resonant  hills  poured  echoes  to  the  sound; 
The  air  in  unimagined  voices  spoke ; 
And  we  dry  bones  awoke. 

But  not  forthwith ;  nay,  one  by  one, 
Each  in  his  fashion,  heard 
The  summons  of  God's  word. 
Some  sprang  to  living  ere  was  done 
That  first  incredible  organ-roll  of  speech, 
While  others  dimly  woke;  but  unto  each 
In  his  own  time  a  message  came 
From  God,  to  speak  his  name, 
And  bid  him  live. 

One  chanced  upon  a  poor  man,  and  he  saw 
The  pitiful  eyes,  and  felt  the  need  to  give, 
He  who  had  never  given  in  all  his  life 
[23] 


HIGHLAND   LIGHT 

Till  then ;  and  he  looked  up  in  holy  awe 
To  see  God's  mercy  shining  on  the  poor. 

To  one  there  came  a  clashing  as  of  strife, 

The  tramp  of  horse-hoofs  on  a  blood-red  moor, 

The  cry  of  the  weak 

Under  the  oppressor's  scourge,  who  seek 

The  help  of  the  indomitable  arm 

Of  passion  for  a  cause ;  and  straight 

He  rose  to  meet  the  clamorous  alarm 

Of  battle,  and  the  burning  joy  of  hate, 

And  victory,  and  pride; 

And  smiling  he  went  forth,  and  fought,  and  died. 

One,  just  at  daybreak,  heard 

The  sun's  first  welcoming 

Sung  for  the  whole  world  by  a  little  bird. 

That  note  became  his  soul,  and  made 

His  echoing  pulses  sing. 

[24] 


I 
THE   VALLEY   OF  DRY  BONES 

He  heard  the  symphonies  the  tempests  played, 

The  surging  orchestra  of  sea  and  sky, 

The  voices  of  the  stars, 

And  the  singing  of  men's  hearts. 

And  that  with  him  the  wonder  should  not  die 

Even  as  the  echo  of  a  word  departs, 

All  that  he  heard  within  the  bars 

Of  music  did  he  set, 

That  men  might  hear,  and  nevermore  forget. 

One  looked  out  into  the  uttermost  depths  of  the 

west, 
As  the  sun  lay  for  a  moment  golden  on  the  world's 

rim; 

And  the  level  rays  burned  into  his  breast 
The  lyric  glory  of  color,  like  a  hymn 
To  the  gods  of  an  older  world. 
To  him  the  mysteries  of  light  were  unfurled 
And  the  magic  of  the  dark ; 
[25] 


HIGHLAND   LIGHT 

And  on  his  eyes  was  set  the  mark 

And  on  his  hand, 

That  he  should  paint  God  in  his  rocks  and  trees, 

His  sunshine,  and  his  mountains,  and  his  seas, 

For  men  to  understand. 

And  unto  one  there  came  a  silentness 

More  moving  than  the  utmost  sound  could  be, 

The  silentness  of  thought  made  free 

To  wander  all  among  the  stars,  and  guess 

Some  fragment  of  the  dateless  mystery. 

And  he,  who  in  the  fashion 

Of  bones,  had  never  loved,  was  filled  with  passion 

For  silence,  and  he  taught 

In  silentness  the  majesty  of  thought. 

Another  looked  upon  a  woman's  face, 
A  woman  he  had  known,  nor  cared  to  know, 
Through  all  the  barren  years  ere  sight 
[26] 


THE   VALLEY   OF  DRY  BONES 

Was  his,  and  lo, 

He  saw  that  she  was  lovely,  with  the  grace 

Of  new-found  faith  upon  her,  and  the  light 

Of  passion  in  her  eyes ;  he  heard  her  speak, 

Whispering  low  "  I  love  you,"  and  his  cheek 

Knew  the  soft  magic  of  her  glorious  hair. 

And  that  her  lustrous  beauty  should  not  fade, 

But  live  forever  fair 

For  men  to  marvel  at  in  days  to  come, 

He  who  was  dumb 

Found  language,  and  he  prayed 

To  God  in  praising  her;  his  living  prayer 

Enshrines  her  beauty  through  unending  years, 

Triumphant  over  time,  and  tears, 

And  death,  and  it  has  grown 

For  every  land  and  every  age 

Part  of  the  lover's  heritage, 

For  in  the  poet's  love  each  man  beholds  his  own. 


[27] 


HIGHLAND   LIGHT 

So  was  the  prophecy  fulfilled 

Of  him  who  spoke  the  word  of  old 

Over  the  bones  that  God  had  willed 

Should  lie  no  longer  cold, 

Moving  without  a  soul  at  earth's  behest, 

And  on  the  breast 

Of  earth  recumbent,  but  should  rise  to  sing, 

Each  in  his  tongue,  God's  glory,  till  the  sea 

And  land  should  ring 

With  praise  re-echoing  to  the  skies 

In  swelling  harmony 

Made  of  unnumbered  passionate  tones, 

Chanting  the  ancient  hymn  that  never  dies 

Out  of  the  sunlit  valley  of  dry  bones. 


[28] 


SUNRISE  IN  VINEYARD  SOUND 
(In  memory  of  L.  W.  C.) 

ALONE  we  waited  for  the  sun ;  the  sail 
Echoed  the  swelling  pulses  of  the  deep ; 
The  twilight  air  woke  softly  from  its  sleep, 
And  one  by  one  the  little  stars  grew  pale. 

The  sea  lay  still  beneath  the  silent  sky 
As  hueless  as  the  headland,  where  the  light, 
Still  faithful  to  its  vigil  of  the  night, 
Watched  over  us  with  keen,  recurrent  eye. 

And  then, —  as  in  some  vast  cathedral  gray 
Across  hushed  worship  rings  the  organ's  voice 
Triumphant,  till  the  very  stones  rejoice 
In  answering  harmony, —  burst  forth  the  day. 
[29] 


HIGHLAND   LIGHT 

The  shores  leaped  from  the  mist  to  meet  the  blue 
Of  radiant  waves ;  the  breeze  bore  up  the  cry 
Of  welcome  from  the  waters,  and  the  sky 
Flung  morning's  spendthrift  glory  forth  anew. 

And  now  all  this  is  changed.     The  dear-loved 

plain, 

The  waters  that  were  like  a  home,  the  shore, 
The  green,  dark  hills,  you  cannot  look  on  more, 
Nor  see  the  wonder  of  the  dawn  again. 

Now,  when  the  foam  is  flying,  and  the  breeze 
Whistles  among  the  ropes,  I  shall  not  hear 
The  voice  I  knew,  nor  see  you  standing  near, 
Glad  in  the  tumult  of  the  tossing  seas. 

But  you  have  left  me,  not  to  vain  regret 
And  sorrow  only,  for  the  leaping  spray 
Brings  me  the  miracle  of  that  far  day, 
And  close  beside  me  stands  your  spirit  yet. 
[30] 


SUNRISE   IN   VINEYARD   SOUND 

And  then  I  know  your  work  is  not  yet  done, 
For  ever  in  my  heart  will  come  the  thrill 
Of  strength  new-born,  as  I  shall  see  you  still, 
Silently  watching  for  the  rising  sun. 


[81] 


WEST  AND  EAST 

A  VAST  new  land,  half  wakened  to  the  wonder 
Of  mighty  strength ;  great  level  plains  that  hold 

Unmeasured  wealth ;  and  the  prophetic  thunder 
Of  triumphs  yet  untold. 

A  land  of  eager  hearts  and  kindly  faces, 
Lit  by  the  glory  of  a  new-born  day; 

Where  every  eye  seeks  the  far-distant  places 
Of  an  untravelled  way. 

Oh  generous  land !     Oh  mighty  inspiration 
That  floods  the  morning  of  the  world  to  be! 

Thy  people  are  the  builders  of  a  nation, 
Lofty,  benignant,  free. 

Yet,  at  a  trivial  word,  a  star's  clear  gleaming, 
A  bird's  sweet  song,  a  sunset  fading  fast, 
[32] 


WEST   AND   EAST 

There  comes  a  longing  for  the  homeland,  dreaming 
Upon  its  sacred  past. 

A  land  of  dear,  remembered  faces,  moving 
Through  happy  days  that  had  to  have  an  end ; 

Each  stream  is  a  companion  known  and  loving, 
And  every  hill  a  friend. 

A  longing  to  behold  the  mountains,  rearing 
Their  great,  gaunt  heads ;  and  once  again  to  be 

Upon  the  barren,  wind-swept  headland,  hearing 
The  surges  of  the  sea. 


[33] 


DON  JUAN  TO  THE  STATUE 

GOOD  monster,  cease  your  pallid  gibbering, 
Your  solemn  antics  from  the  outworn  school 
Of  acting  men  call  life.     Could  such  a  thing 
As  you  have  grown  awe  one  not  all  a  fool  ? 
I  knew  that  you  would  find  me  in  the  end, 
Nay,  saw  it  clear  before  my  day  began, 
Felt  how  your  leaden  hand  would  seek  to  bend 
The  thing  you  never  were  —  an  honest  man. 
Honest,  forsooth?     You  shake  your  stony  head; 
The  world's  way  ever.     In  that  marble  skull, 
So  white,  so  honorable,  and  so  dull, 
Is  room  for  nought  but  echoes  of  the  dead. 
You  are  the  world  itself,  its  rigid  face 
Portentous  in  its  smug  dishonesty. 
Ah,  does  that  hit  you  ?     You,  of  ancient  race, 
[34] 


DON   JUAN   TO   THE   STATUE 

Honored  and  rich  in  lands,  and  what  men  call 
An  "  injured  husband  "  —  as  if  that  should  be 
Your  double  crown  of  virtue, —  after  all 
Taunted  by  Juan  as  a  walking  lie  ? 
Come,  now,  but  which  lived  truer,  you  or  I  ? 
"  An  honorable  love,  an  unstained  life !  " 
What  do  you  know  of  either,  you  who  brought 
Your  plaything  home,  a  child,  to  be  your  wife 
In  the  same  fashion  that  a  horse  is  bought? 
Your  honor  lay  in  making  her  your  own, 
Your  chattel ;  if  she  had  a  pulsing  heart 
You  never  knew  it ;  all  your  care  alone 
Was  this,  that  no  man  else  should  have  a  part 
In  any  thought  of  hers.     And  so  you  fight, 
Measuring  honor  by  your  rapier's  play, 
Whoever  dares  to  bring  some  fleeting  ray, 
Some  warming  glow  from  God's  most  holy  light, 
Into  that  prison  of  hers  your  honor  built 
Kill  him,  you  torture  her;  yourself  be  slain, 

[35] 


HIGHLAND   LIGHT 

And  he  is  branded  with  the  murderer's  guilt, 
But  holds  the  love  he  won,  and  all  your  gain 
Is  that  your  petty  world  makes  show  to  grieve 
To  hide  the  mocking  laughter  in  its  sleeve. 
"  Unending  love !  "     God,  what  a  lying  knave ! 
I  wonder,  have  you  ever  loved  at  all, 
If  passion  for  one  moment  lit  that  grave 
Important  face  of  yours.     The  thing  you  call 
Love  is  but  pride  of  owning,  jealousy, 
The  miser's  pawing  of  his  money-bags. 
Love !     'Tis  vile  blasphemy  to  name  its  free 
Untrammeled  spirit,  and  your  bond  that  drags 
Its  weary  chain  a  life-time,  in  a  breath. 
Love  is  no  slave  of  laws ;  it  mocks  at  death, 
And  laughs  to  scorn  the  petty  policies 
That  shape  such  lives  as  yours ;  it  comes  and  goes 
As  sudden  and  unfettered  as  the  breeze. 
A  word  will  quicken  it,  a  word  will  slay. 
It  is  the  purest  light  man's  spirit  knows, 

[36] 


DON   JUAN   TO   THE   STATUE 

A  flame  from  heaven  while  lasts  its  burning  day, 
Then  night  and  dark.     Undying  ?     Keep  the  rose 
A  twelvemonth  fragrant !     You  and  all  your  kind 
Would  make  a  life-time  sentence  of  a  night 
Of  wonder.     Oh,  you  drive  me  mad,  so  blind, 
So  false,  and  so  tenacious  of  your  right 
To  rob  God's  creatures  of  their  liberty. 
Xow  mark  me.     I  have  never  sought  to  buy 
A  slave,  nor  hold  a  woman  less  than  free ; 
I  never  sickened  truth  with  honied  lie, 
Prating  of  "  honor,"  "  love  that  cannot  die  " ; 
But  when  love's  self  came  to  me,  when  my  heart 
And  soul  and  body  knew  its  extasy, 
Then  I  said  this :  "  I  love  you,  for  a  day, 
A  month,  a  year,  I  know  not.     When  we  part, 
Let  us  be  honest  both,  and  bravely  say 
That  love  is  dead.     I  have  but  this  to  give, 
And  ask  no  more  but  love  in  fair  return. 
Peril  I  bring,  but  if  you  dare  to  live 

[37] 


HIGHLAND   LIGHT 

Free,  true  and  noble,  if  you  ever  yearn 
To  be  the  thing  God  meant  you  for,  and  not 
The  slave  life  makes  you,  brave  it,  knowing  well 
That  you  must  stake  love's  heaven  against  man's 

hell. 

Seek  further  nothing ;  would  you  share  my  lot, 
You  cannot ;  I  must  go  my  chosen  way 
While  you  go  yours ;  no  man  can  truly  mate 
With  woman  when  the  lengthening  shadows  wait 
To  cloud  the  evening  of  love's  fleeting  day. 
There  is  my  heart,  too  honest  for  the  cheat 
Of  mouthing  ceremony,  or  to  play 
The  farce  life  makes  a  tragedy  of.     We  meet 
To  love,  nor  question  after." 

Come  then,  say 

If  this  be  honesty  or  no.     But  then, 
Grant  me  one  love,  but  what  of  all  the  rest  ? 
"  Faithless "    I   hear   you  mumble.     Why   were 

men, 
And  women  too,  the  worst  up  to  the  best, 

[38] 


DON   JUAN   TO   THE   STATUE 

Not  made  by  God  with  blessed  power  to  change, 

To  grow,  to  alter?     Would  it  not  be  strange 

If  any  man  should  cast  his  likes  and  hates 

At  birth  into  an  iron  mould,  nor  dream 

What  miracle  upon  the  morrow  waits  ? 

Better  by  far  to  part  before  the  gleam 

Has  faded  miserably,  nor  outstay 

Love's  regency  so  much  as  by  a  day. 

Oh,  you  good,  lying  people !     There,  I  come ; 

Else  will  the  cock's  crow  shriek  your  mouthing 

dumb, 

And  all  your  righteous  work  will  be  to  do 
Again.     You  conquer,  after  all;  the  weight 
Of  life  bears  down  the  soul  that  dares  be  true, 
Braving  the  world  and  careless  of  its  fate. 
So  shall  you  stand  for  centuries  to  see, 
Marble  and  praised  and  false,  albeit  some, 
More  wise,  shall  mock  at  you  what  time  they  come 
To  gape ;  and  close  beside  you  I  shall  rest) 

[39] 


HIGHLAND   LIGHT 

Unmarked,  with  flowers  growing  o'er  my  breast. 
Yet,  would  you  write  an  epitaph  for  me, 
To  tell  the  world  I  died  beneath  your  ban, 
Conceive  it  thus :  "  Here  lies  an  honest  man." 
Nay,  nay,  I  come.  .  .  . 


[40] 


TARPAULIN  COVE 

THE  wind  has  fallen  with  the  sun,  and  now 
Only  its  faintest  murmur  moves  the  air; 
The  ripples  whisper  underneath  the  bow 
Like  sleepy  children's  voices  hushed  in  prayer. 

The  dreaming  sea  breathes  slowly  in  its  sleep ; 
Only  the  stars  are  waking,  and  they  lie 
Immeasurably  distant  in  the  deep 
Unfathomable  darkness  of  the  sky. 


And  so  we  creep  to  harbor,  very  still 
Amid  the  sleeping  silence  of  the  world, 
To  where  the  schooners  lie  beneath  the  hill 
That  watches  o'er  them  when  their  sails  are  furled. 
[41] 


HIGHLAND   LIGHT 

Among  them  like  a  new-come  ghost  we  glide, 
Shatter  the  stillness  with  our  anchor-chain, 
And  as  its  echo  dies  away,  the  tide 
Of  sleep  floods  shoreward  from  the  sea  again. 


[42] 


FAITH 

NOT  self,  that  strange,  inconsequential  thing, 
Half  prophet  and  half  fool,  that  blinks  at  truth, 
Selling  the  burning  freedom  of  its  youth 
For  gifts  age  may  not  bring. 


Not  fame,  for  when  the  whirling  noise  is  still, 
The  silence  passes  judgment,  or  forgets, 
And  time  alone,  inexorable,  lets 
The  good  be  known  from  ill. 


Not  dogma,  mouthing  at  divinity, 
Setting  an  image  in  the  holy  place, 
Shrouding  with  words  the  truth's  unswerving  face, 
Lest  men,  awakened,  see. 
[43] 


HIGHLAND   LIGHT 

Not  the  mean  bribe  of  something  after  death; 
The  spirit  is  too  proud  to  sue  for  peace 
In  worlds  incredible,  and  fain  would  cease 
With  life's  last  yearning  breath. 

Not  even  love,  so  intricate  with  fear, 
Bruised  by  the  uncouth  hand  of  common  life, 
A  year's  eternity,  with  death,  or  strife, 
Or  dimness  waiting  near. 

Yet  there  is  faith,  the  faith  of  work  well  done 
Because  mankind  is  working;  for  the  pain, 
The  joy,  the  things  we  lose,  the  things  we  gain, 
Unnumbered,  yet  are  one. 

Faith  that  we  climb  together  o'er  the  bars 
Of  hate,  an  army  marshalled  by  a  soul, 
Blind  visionaries,  struggling  toward  a  goal 
Among  the  singing  stars. 

[44] 


THE  DEATH-SONG  OF  EGILL  THE 
SON  OF  GRIM 


"  Then  came  Arinbjorn  by  night  from  Erik  the  Bloody 
Axe,  King  of  Northumberland,  to  the  room  where  Egill 
lay,  and  said  to  him  that  the  King  and  Queen  Gunnhild 
had  willed  that  Egill  should  be  slain  when  morning  came; 
and  he  counseled  him,  if  yet  he  would  save  his  head,  that 
he  should  wake  through  the  night  and  make  a  poem  in 
praise  of  Erik,  that  perchance  the  King  might  still  grant 
him  his  life." 

Egils  Saga  Skallagrimssonar. 


I,  EGILL,  rover  of  the  North,  am  cast 
Into  your  hands,  and  Erik's  day  at  last 
Has  come.     I  know  the  waves  I  yet  shall  see 
Tomorrow,  ere  I  die,  will  beckon  me 
Homeward  in  vain.     The  storm  that  stripped  my 

deck 

Of  men,  and  flung  my  ship,  a  broken  wreck, 
Upon  your  barren  shore,  has  brought  me  here 
[45] 


HIGHLAND   LIGHT 

To  look  upon  this  king  the  Southrons  fear. 

Go,  tell  your  lord,  Erik  the  Bloody  Axe, 

That  Egill  fain  would  sleep ;  the  writhing  hacks 

Of  waves  have  borne  me  over  long,  and  death, 

That  follows  with  the  sun,  yet  grants  this  breath 

Of  quiet  in  the  darkness.     Say  I  rest 

Contented,  nought  of  tumult  in  my  breast. 

The  sea  I  fought,  and  men,  but  will  not  fight 

Against  the  gods,  that  wait  for  me  tonight. 

The  day  is  his ;  darkness  belongs  to  me. 

Tell  him  that,  dead  or  living,  I  am  free; 

His  prison  is  my  chosen  resting-place. 

Go,  tell  him  that,  and  tell  him  that  the  face 

Of  Egill,  doomed  to  die,  has  shown  no  fear. — 

It  was  to  see  me  weep  he  sent  you  here. 

What  should  I  know  of  sorrow  ?     Deeds  like  these 

Of  mine  shall  ring  across  the  northern  seas 

When  Erik  and  his  axe  have  been  forgot 

In  the  grey  mists  of  Niflheim.     Each  man's  lot 

[46] 


THE  DEATH-SONG   OF   EGILL 

Is  written,  and  the  Noras  will  never  heed 
Weeping  or  threats.     In  death  there  is  no  need 
For  prayer,  or  hope,  or  fear.     Say  to  your  king 
That,  ere  I  sleep,  I  once  again  shall  sing, 
And  fashion  the  last  song  that  I  shall  make. 
Tell  him,  when  in  a  nightmare  he  shall  wake, 
Let  him  give  ear,  and  there  will  come  to  him 
The  battle-song  of  Egill  son  of  Grim. 

Alone. —  They  say  that  round  the  dying  stand 
All  who  were  known  in  life,,  by  sea  or  land ; 
So  did  the  sorrowing  gods  in  pity  throng 
About    Bald's    bale-fire.     Aye,    there    Bard    the 

Strong 

Watches  me  from  the  doorway, —  him  I  slew 
At  that  brave  feast  in  Norway,  when  I  knew 
The  mead-cup  reeked  with  death.  The  chattering 

thralls 

Bid  to  that  mockery  in  Atley's  halls 
[47] 


HIGHLAND   LIGHT 

Fled  shrieking  when  I  clove  their  master's  head 
Down  to  the  leering  lips.     And  you,  long  dead, 
Come  once  again  to  look  upon  me !     Now 
The  fates  have  scored  their  rune  upon  my  brow, 
But  you,  who  sought  to  slay  me  long  ago, 
Died  by  my  hand,  and  I  am  glad. — 

I  know 

Yon  face  beside  you. —  Thorolf,  brother  mine, 
Borne  down  by  spears  when,  in  the  Saxon  line, 
We  two  made  firm  his  crown  for  Athelstan 
That  mighty  day  at  Vinheath.     Never  man 
Had  truer  friend  than  you.     I  come  at  last 
To  feast  with  you  in  Valhall,  but  the  past 
Has  cleared  the  debt  I  owed  you.     I  have  slain 
The  men  who  slew  you,  brother ;  none  remain 
On  Middle-Earth  to  boast  your  death  unpaid 
By  death.     We  two,  together,  unafraid, 
Shall  seek  tomorrow  Odin's  golden  door, 
And  speak  as  comrades  with  the  mighty  Thor. 
[48] 


THE   DEATH-SONG   OF   EGILL 

More  faces  in  the  shadows, —  men  who  sailed 
With  me  from  Kurland,  when  the  darkness  paled 
To  morning,  and  the  flame  glowed  far  astern, 
The  flame  we  kindled  for  a  torch  to  burn 
The  hearts  of  them  we  hated. —  Other  men, 
Comrades  and  foes  in  Iceland,  from  the  glen, 
The  mountain  and  the  plain  they  come,  for  I 
Can  never  come  to  them.     'Tis  good  to  die 
Since  death  brings  me  so  close  to  all  mankind, 
The  living  and  the  dead.     I  leave  behind 
Xo  grief  that  vengeance  will  not  burn  away. 
For,  through  the  darkness,  I  can  see  a  day 
Not  long  to  wait,  that  threatens  with  the  gleam 
Of  ruddy  sails ;  the  flash  of  oars  shall  seem 
The  lightning  of  Thor's  anger.     In  the  shout 
Of  battle,  and  the  tumult,  and  the  rout, 
Shall  Erik  once  more  hark  to  EgilFs  voice. 
Few  then  shall  be  the  Southrons  who  rejoice 
That  I  am  dead. 

[49] 


HIGHLAND   LIGHT 

At  morn  the  gulls  will  fly 
Northward  to  Iceland,  and  their  shrilling  cry 
Shall  wake  the  distant  sleepers  with  the  word 
"  Egill  is  slain !  "  even  as  the  gods  once  heard 
The    Gjallarhorn.     Oh    birds,     that    were    my 

friends, 

Take  up  the  song  that  forth  your  comrade  sends ; 
It  is  the  heart  of  Egill  ye  shall  bear 
Back  to  his  home.     This  is  the  only  prayer 
I  make  to  Odin,  that  in  Iceland  long 
The  cliffs  shall  echo  Egill's  dying  song. 

Men  of  Iceland,  mates  of  mine 
On  field  and  furrowed  sea, 
Bold  in  battle,  seamen  brave, 
Hewers  of  helms  with  me, 
Mindful  of  mighty  blows  full  many 
We  dealt  in  days  gone  by, 
Grind  and  gird  ye  the  swords  again ; 
Doomed  is  Egill  to  die. 
[50] 


THE  DEATH-SONG  OF  EGILL 

Fearless  forth  to  his  fate  he  goes, 
Fearless  he  lived  and  free ; 
Need  of  a  master  never  he  knew, 
At  the  call  of  a  king  to  be. 
Ever  the  song  of  the  sea  he  sang, 
Ever  the  song  of  the  sword ; 
Hollow  the  hearts  that  heard  his  voice 
In  the  land  of  the  southern  lord. 

Hearken,  Erik,  give  heed  and  hear, 

For  a  dead  man's  words  are  wise; 

Across  the  seas  my  song  I  send, 

Forth  on  the  wind  it  flies ; 

Egill's  body  you  bear  to  the  bale, 

But  him  you  cannot  kill ; 

In  a  thousand  hearts  his  home  shall  he  have 

And  his  sword  shall  stay  not  still. 

Glad  the  greeting  I  gave  the  sea, 
Glad  did  I  greet  the  sun; 
[51] 


HIGHLAND   LIGHT 

Wind  and  wave  knew  well  my  voice, 
And  the  beaches  where  breakers  run ; 
The  biting  blast  was  brother  of  mine, 
My  kin  were  the  clouds  on  high; — 
Are  you  fain  to  fight  such  mighty  folk 
That  you  dare  to  let  me  die  ? 

Long  have  I  lived,  and  light  of  heart, 

Wealth  have  I  won  and  fame; 

High  on  my  hearth  burned  the  fire  of  home 

When  back  from  the  battle  I  came. 

Gladly  I  go  to  the  land  of  the  gods 

Beyond  the  rainbow's  rim, 

For  the  rocks  and  ridges  of  Iceland  ring 

With  the  song  of  the  son  of  Grim. 

Now  let  the  sun  climb  up  the  sky;  I  wait 
The  day  that  bears  the  shadow  of  my  fate 
Untroubled.     I  have  fought,  and  bled,  and  won, 
And  seen  the  happy  end  of  work  begun 
[52] 


THE   DEATH-SONG   OF   EGILL 

In  doubt  and  danger ; —  aye,  and  I  have  made 
A  song  that  shall  bear  children.     Unafraid 
I  listen  for  the  summons  of  the  horn 
Of    Heindall. —  Yonder,    cloudless,    breaks    the 
morn. 


[53] 


ON  OFFENBACH'S  "TALES  OF 
HOFFMANN " 

FANTASTIC  child  of  moonlight,   sing  once  more 

Love's  unrealities  to  hoodwink  time, 

Making  of  life  a  lotos-eaters'  shore, 

And  death  a  children's  toy  of  pantomime. 

Gladly  we  hear  thy  voice  amid  the  laws 
And  facts  that  bind  us  to  remember  pain, 
Echoing  a  world  where  nothing  seeks  its  cause, 
Where  no  one  grieves,  and  thought  itself  is  vain. 

Singing  along  the  years,  thou  shalt  possess, 
For  all  thy  delicate  substance,  strength  to  free 
Men's  hearts  to  moments  of  forgetfulness, 
Swaying  content  upon  thy  magic  sea. 

[54] 


STORM  AT  SEA 

NIGHT,  hot  and  breathless;  sails  that  flap,  and 

spars 

Creaking  like  souls  in  an  uneasy  sleep; 
The  weary  writhings  of  the  windless  deep; 
Above,  the  dying  fires  of  the  stars, 
Which  one  by  one  go  out  behind  the  pall 
That  creeps  above  the  dark  horizon  wall. 

A  sudden  gust,  the  snap  of  ropes  pulled  tight, 
The  ship's  quick  heeling  to  the  northern  blast, 
A  calm, —  then  other  gusts  that  follow  fast, 
And  we  go  driving  headlong  through  the  night, 
Blackness  above,  black  water  at  the  rail, 
Blackness  ahead,  and  on  our  heels  the  gale. 

No  light  except  the  binnacle's  white  stare, 
No  human  sound  above  the  steady  crash 
[55] 


HIGHLAND   LIGHT 

Of  breaking  seas,  that  wind-flung  come  to  lash 
The  steersman's  face;   and  howling  everywhere, 
Through  quivering  shrouds,  around  the  topmasts 

stark, 
The  hurtling  wind  re-echoes  through  the  dark. 

The  long-enduring  hours  go  their  way 
In  a  monotony  of  ceaseless  motion, 
Till  a  wan  grayness  shows  the  whirling  ocean 
Beneath  the  clouded  coming  of  the  day. 
Then,  in  each  others'  faces  gaunt  and  white 
Silent  we  read  the  fury  of  the  night. 


[56] 


LEUCONOE 

(After  the  Latin  of  Horace) 
SEEK  not  to  know,  for  it  is  wrong,  what  fates  the 

gods  decree, 
Nor  try  in  vain,   Leuconoe,   the  fortune-teller's 

art; 

Far  better  is  it  to  endure  whatever  is  to  be, 
Whether  for   many   winters   still    we   linger,   or 

depart 
With  that  which  now  against  the  cliffs  drives  on 

the  Tyrrhene  sea. 
Be  wise;  let  distant  hopes  not  cheat  the  present 

from  your  heart. 
While  we  are  speaking  Time  flies  past,  and  follow 

him  we  must ; 
Enjoy  today;  tomorrow  is  a  thing  we  may  not 

trust. 

[57] 


BUEIAL 

WHY  should  my  death  endure  for  countless  years  ? 
I  would  not  have  this  frame,  when  I  am  dead, 
Become  a  thing  to  think  upon  with  dread, 
But  cease  together  with  its  hopes  and  fears. 

Nor  would  I  leave  this  life,  so  sweet  and  brief, 
And  all  my  friends,  to  lie  long  ages  through, 
Decaying  mockery  of  the  man  they  knew, 
Within  a  city  consecrate  to  grief. 

No ;  let  the  kindly  flames  make  all  men  free 
To  think  of  me  as  once  I  was;  and  lest 
My  ashes  speak  unbidden,  let  them  rest 
In  the  enfolding  silence  of  the  sea. 


[58] 


BEGGARS  IN  AMERICA 

(1913) 

"  Do  you  speak  German  ?  "     I,  half  scared,  half 

vain, 

Debated  for  a  moment,  then,  "  Ja  wohl; 
Was  kann  ich  fur  Sie  thun?  "  And  so  he  spoke. 
His  voice  was  something  like  one  I  had  heard 
Long  years  ago  —  a  very  learned  man, 
Discoursing  about  Plato.     What  he  said 
Was  rather  time-worn.     Immigrant  —  two 

months  — 
Loved     gardens  • —  tended     flowers  — -  something 

vague 

Mumbled  about  the  veilchen  —  now  no  work  — 
No  money  —  no  one  understood  his  talk, — 
"  I  used  to  have  a  home  near  Freiberg ;  now 
I  am  a  beggar  in  America." 
[59] 


HIGHLAND   LIGHT 

Lies,  doubtless ;  yet  about  his  face  there  clung 
A  sort  of  dignity ;  his  measured  voice, 
As  if  reciting  some  dull  author's  poems, 
Eang  neither  true  nor  false,  but  tired  out, 
Wearied  with  lying  or  with  life  —  who  knows  ? 
His  pale  blue  eyes  were  tired,  too  —  a  look 
That  I  have  seen  cloud  up  an  actor's  face 
When,  having  played  a  part  five  hundred  times, 
And  played  it  well,  and  made  his  smiling  bow, 
He  goes  back  to  his  dingy  dressing-room. — 
"  I  used  to  have  a  home  near  Freiberg ;  now 
I  am  a  beggar  in  America." 

Well,  be  it  so ;  he  was  an  actor  too, 
Long  overburdened  with  the  part  he  played. 
Perhaps  he  told  the  truth;  what  matters  that? 
Part  truth,  part  lies,  I  fancy.     That  I  gave 
More  than  he  asked  did  not  disturb  him  much. 
With  that  same  weary  dignity  of  his 
He  thanked  me,  saying  little,  and  was  gone. 
[60] 


BEGGAKS   IN   AMEKICA 

Whither?     I  asked  a  righteous  woman,  firm 
In  organizing  love,  and  she  declared, 
Outraged,  he  wanted  drink.     Well,  then,  he  did. 
Perhaps,  half  blinded,  clinging  to  a  bar, 
He  saw  the  home  near  Freiberg,  and  forgot 
He  was  a  beggar  in  America. 

We  are  all  beggars,  brother, —  far  too  like 
To  feel  mistrust.     Some  beg,  as  you,  perhaps, 
For  just  a  moment  of  forgetfulness ; 
Some  beg  for  memories  we  cannot  hold ; 
Some  beg  for  love,  for  understanding  hearts 
With  thoughts  unbounded  by  the  spoken  word; 
Others  for  fame,  that  men  we  do  not  know 
May  look,  and  speak  our  names ;  some  beg  for 

peace 

And  respite  from-  the  toil  of  going  on ; — 
God,  what  do  men  not  beg  for !     And  like  you 
We  find  so  few  who  understand  the  tongue 
That  can  alone  express  the  thing  we  are. 
[61] 


HIGHLAND   LIGHT 

Waiting  for  sympathy  that  does  not  come  — 
The  help  that  seems  so  easy  to  be  given, 
So  hard  to  ask, —  do  we  not  all  look  back 
To  some  far  day  within  a  peaceful  house, 
Our  own  in  the  dim  spirit's  fatherland, 
A  house  we  lightly  left,  nor  ever  thought 
We  should  be  beggars  in  America? 


Go,  eat  or  drink,  good  friend.     I  too  have  asked, 
And  had  men  wonder  what  my  jargon  meant ; 
I  too  have  asked,  and  seen  men  turn  away. 
Yes,  and  at  times  I  too  have  heard,  "  Ja  wohl, 
Was  karm  ich  fur  Sie  thun?  "  and  looked  in  eyes 
That  answered  mine.     Whatever  strength  I  have 
Is  mine  through  charity  of  theirs.     Thank  them 
That  you  are  drunk  tonight,  or,  it  may  be, 
That  you  sit  writing  letters  to  your  home. 
Should  I  be  drunk  or  sober, —  who  can  say  ? 
Half  honest,  both  of  us,  and  weary  both, 
[62] 


BEGGARS   IN  AMERICA 

Wholly  improvident,  we  two  can  see 

The  little  house  near  Freiberg  still,  thank  God, 

Though  we  are  beggars  in  America. 


[63] 


TO  THE  MIDDLE  AGES 

PROMISE  before  the  dawn;  not  glory  yet 
Of  wakened  morning,  but  the  misty  light 
That  veils  the  waters  ere  the  moon  is  set, 
When  phantom  ships  go  sailing  into  night. 

Heroic  twilight  of  undying  names, 

Of  glowing  deeds  wrought  by  gigantic  men, 

Of  Sigurd  glorying  amid  the  flames, 

Of  Roland  slain  in  the  Iberian  glen, 

Long  since  the  skies  were  flooded  with  the  day, 
Yet  shall  men  ever  hear  with  quickening  breath 
How  Erik's  son  sailed  on  the  Western  Way, 
And  Taillefer  rode  singing  to  his  death. 

[64] 


THE  SHADOW 

SLOW  pulsing  of  the  heart  that  whispers  death, 
And  forehead  cold  with  mists  of  endless  night, 
The  moving  lips  that  shudder  at  the  breath, 
And  eyes  that  stare  for  light 

Yet  nought  have  you  to  fear  the  dark  can  hide, 
But  she  who  silent  waits,  nor  dares  to  stir 
Lest  Death  creep  past  her,  tearless  at  your  side, 
God,  God !     O  pity  her. 


[65] 


NIL  DESPERANDUM 

THEY  say  that  Teucer,  even  when  he  fled 

His  father  and  his  Salaminian  home, 

Yet  bound  a  poplar  crown  about  his  brows, 

And  spake  these  words  to  his  unhappy  friends : 

"Wherever  fate,  more  generous  to  us 

Than  to  our  sires,  shall  lead  us,  we  will  go, 

O  friends  and  comrades.     Xought  is  void  of  hope 

When  Teucer  is  your  chief  and  guardian. 

For  truly  did  Apollo  promise  us 

Another  Salamis  for  days  to  come 

In  a  new  land.     Oh  ye,  strong  men  and  true, 

Who  long  with  me  have  suffered  evil  things, 

Now  drive  away  your  cares  with  easeful  wine. 

Tomorrow  onward  o'er  the  mighty  sea," 


[66] 


THE  SHORE 

THERE  is  a  desolate  waste  beside  the  sea, 
Long  reaches  of  gray  sand,  whereon  the  waves 
Beat  their  monotonous  and  endless  march; 
And  all  the  shore  in  utter  dreariness 
Yearns  for  the  gleam  of  sails  furled  long  ago. 
Only  the  restless  seagulls  know  the  place, 
And  screaming  mock  its  deathly  loneliness. 
But  there  are  voices  from  the  swaying  sea, 
And  there  are  voices  in  the  living  air; 
And  now  the  gulls  are  silent,  and  the  sea 
Murmurs  its  world-old  sorrow. 

Then  a  voice: — 
From  the  ashes  of  the  past, 

From  the  gladness  and  the  pain, 
From  the  first  and  from  the  last, 
I  remain. 

[67] 


HIGHLAND   LIGHT 

Though  the   stars  forever   strive, 

Yet  their  strife  is  still  the  same; 
I  am  all  that  shall  survive: 
I  am  Fame. 


Wandering  like  a  dream  across  the  waste 

It  wailed  upon  the  wind ;  and  far  and  near 

There  came  a  dreary  echo  — "  I  am  Fame." 

And  ever  and  anon,  as  back  and  forth 

Amid  the  desolation  swept  the  voice, 

Through    the    still    air    it    quivered  — "  I    am 

Fame." 
And  a  lone  gull  cried  out  in  answer  to  it. 


And  now  a  mist,  as  gray  as  the  gray  sand, 
Lay  heavy  on  the  sea,  and  in  the  mist 
That  bound  the  world  there  was  a  voice  so  old 
That  life  became  eternal  weariness: — 

[68] 


THE   SHORE 

Lo,  I  am  Power ;  in  an  iron  hand 

I  hold  the  stars ;  my  voice  can  call  to  life 
The  silent  dead,  and  make  the  sun  to  stand. 

The  earth  is  mine,  and  all  the  depths  unknown 

Are  mine ;  and  in  a  ring  of  endless  strife 
Are  reared  the  naming  bulwarks  of  my  throne. 

And  then  the  voice  died  into  nothingness. 

And  from  the  east  there  came  a  sounding  wind 

That  drove  the  mist  before  it,  and  behind 

There  followed  a  great  coldness.     All  the  earth 

Shivered ;  the  air  was  visible  with  cold. 

And  then,  as  distant  as  the  frozen  moon, 

Arising  out  of  nowhere,  everywhere, 

From  sea  and  sky  and  earth,  came  forth  a  voice : — 

Life  is  an  endless  waste  of  vain  desires, 
Of  empty  labor  and  unfruitful  years; 
[G9] 


HIGHLAND   LIGHT 

And  all  the  myriad  little  hopes  and  fears 
Arc  passing  flames  of  everlasting  fires. 

I  am  the  end  of  all  things ;  and  the  breath 
Of  man  is  incense  and  a  fleeting  dream 
That  I  have  long  forgotten  in  the  gleam 

Of  never-ending  life ;  for  I  am  Death. 

Then  there  was  silence  over  all  the  world, 

And  vacant  misery  and  unknown  fear, 

And  through  the  clouds  the  cold  gray  hand  of 

Death,— 

When  suddenly  there  came  a  western  wind, 
And  the  long  level  shafts  of  the  warm  sun 
Lay  on  the  waters  like  an  aureole. 
The  desolate  sands  turned  golden,  and  the  air 
Thrilled  into  living  motion.     Then  from  out 
The  mist  of  sunset  came  a  singing  voice : — 

Into  the  emptiness  of  night, 

Tossed  by  the  winds  in  surging  strife, 
[70] 


THE   SHOEE 

The  voices  take  their  flight; 
Ever  they  wander  to  and  fro, 
Mocking  the  thing  they  cannot  know, 
The  truth  of  love  in  life. 

They  are  but  echoes  of  the  world, 
Back  from  the  hollows  of  the  sky 
In  shadowy  madness  hurled ; 

Never  to  bend  what  they  yearn  to  sway, 

Nor  dim  the  courage  of  the  day, 
The  hope  that  shall  not  die. 

Then  there  was  silence  up  and  down  the  shore, 
Bathed  in  the  sunset's  glory ;  and  the  world 
Faded  to  gold;  and  all  the  dreariness 
Had  vanished  with  the  voices  down  the  wind. 


[71] 


ON  THE  TRAIN  — MARCH 

GOD!     What  a  country: 

Flat,  rusty,  desolate  fields, 

Flecked  'with  puddles  of  dingy  snow, 

Houses  unpainted,  haphazard  in  a  wilderness  of 

man's  making, 

Breeders  of  creeping  madness ; 
Towns  —  cities  perhaps  — 
Made    of   factories,    freight    yards,    hovels    and 

churches ; 

And  all  —  fields,  people,  towns  — 
Utterly  flat  and  dreary. 

Wait.     When  next  you  come 
Spring  will  have  whispered  the  fields  to  life ; 
Foliage  will  have  cast  its  mystery  about  the  wan 
houses, 

[72] 


ON   THE   TRAIN  — MARCH 

God's  trees  will  hide  the  churches ; 

And  in  people's  eyes 

Will  shine  a  light,  such  as  shone  from  Moses'  face 

of  old ; 

And,  like  him,  unaware 
Of  the  myriads  that  turn  to  them  for  help, 
They  will  look  out  over  their  wide  fields, 
And  go  thither  to  their  labor. 


[Y3] 


THE  VOYAGERS 

WE  were  weary  of  our  prison,  with  its  wheels  that 
grind  and  roar, 

Till  we  broke  the  bonds  that  held  us  there,  and 
knew  that  we  were  free, 

Till  the  walls  were  far  behind  us,  and  the  morn- 
ing star  before, 

And  the  life  that  knows  no  master,  and  the  surg- 
ing of  the  sea. 

So  we  built  a  ship  and  manned  her,  and  we  left 

the  seething  town, 
And  we  reached  the  Northern  Ocean,  where  the 

ice-fields  heave  and  groan, 
And  they  fettered  us  and  bound  us,  while  the 

mocking  sun  looked  down, 
And  we  froze,  and  starved,  and  gloried,  for  the 

toil  was  all  our  own. 
[74] 


THE   VOYAGERS 

Then  beck  we  came  and  wearily  we  sought  the 

trodden   way, 
And  we  left  the  ship  at  anchor,  and  we  thought 

our  work  was  done; 
Till  we  looked  across  the  waters,  and  we  heard  the 

leaping  spray 
Laugh  to  scorn  our  dull  contentment  in  a  peace 

we  had  not  won. 

So  we  manned  our  ship  a  second  time,  and  sailed 

her  round  the  world, 
Twenty   months   of  wave  and   tempest,   till   we 

reached  the  kindly  shore ; 
Then  we  brought  her  back  to  harbor,  once  again 

her  sails  we  furled, 
And  we  swore  by  all  the  gods  of  earth  to  sail  the 

sea  no  more. 

But  the  winds  still  call  us  onward  to  the  prize  we 
cannot  gain, 

[75] 


HIGHLAND   LIGHT 

And  rest  is  dreary  to  the  soul  as  meadows  to  the 
eye; 

Let  us  leave  the  land  behind  us,  let  us  launch  the 
ship  again, 

And  we'll  sail  for  worlds  undreamed-of,  sail  for- 
ever till  we  die. 


[76] 


EVENING  SONG 

OVEB  the  water  a  gleam, 

The  breathless  light  of  a  star, 
Guiding  me  over  the  waste  of  sea 

Back  to  the  harbor  bar. 

Over  the  water  a  breath, 

The  wind's  faint,  tremulous  sigh, 
Drifting  across  the  silent  waves, — 

And  none  can  hear  but  I. 

Over  the  water  a  voice, 

Tender  and  soft  and  true, 
Borne  on  the  shafts  of  the  dying  sun, 

Calling  me  back  to  you. 


[77] 


MARSTON  MOOR 

HE  left  us  at  the  break  of  day, 

His  laugh  rang  clear,  his  eyes  were  bright, 
He  kissed  the  rose  he  bore  away, 

And  singing  rode  into  the  fight. 

At  noon  they  said  the  day  was  won; 

At  eve  they  said  the  day  was  lost ; 
And  till  that  weary  night  was  done 

We  heard  the  trees  moan,  tempest-tossed. 

At  dawn  they  brought  him  home  again, 
His  brow  was  cold  and  wet  with  dew ; 

And  by  his  side  we  watched  in  pain, 

And  no  one  spoke,  the  whole  day  through. 


[78] 


ON  AN  ICELANDIC  SKALD 

(Egill   Skallagrimsson ) 

SINGER  and  conqueror  of  battles  vast 

With  sea,  and  earth,  and  men  in  days  of  yore, 
Father  of  mighty  sons,  who  on  the  shore 

Of  barren  Iceland  reared  a  house  to  last 

The  generations  of  an  age  long  past, 

Now  do  thy  kinsmen  hear  thy  voice  no  more, 
Nor  ever  shall  they  see  thy  flame-tipped  oar 

Lash  the  white  spray  to  meet  the  bending  mast. 

Ten  centuries  weigh  down  upon  thy  grave; 
Yet  one  still  hears  thy  song,  and  sees  thy  face, 
Stern,    battle-scarred,    unyielding;    for    the 

wave 

That  thunders  on  to  work  the  east  wind's  will 
Makes  his  heart  sing  with  the  old  gladness  still, 
And  tells  him  we  are  of  the  selfsame  race. 
[79] 


UNDROWNED 

THE  staysail's  fast,  thank  God.     My  hands  are 

cut; 

I'd  look  at  them  if  it  were  not  so  dark. 
But  then,  what  matter?     And  why  work  so  hard 
To  lash  a  useless  sail  the  wind  tore  loose  ? 
There  isn't  any  chance.     An  hour  more, 
And  then  the  sands.     God,  but  it's  dark.     Per- 
haps 

If  we  could  see  it  would  be  even  worse. 
I'll  take  the  wheel  again  if  we're  afloat 
At  daybreak  —  but  of  course  we'll  all  be  dead 
Long  before  that.     John's  got  a  steady  hand, 
He'll  hold  her, —  and  my  arms  were  getting  numb. 
I'm  glad  he  took  her  for  awhile.     Old  John, 
I'm  sorry  that  he's  got  to  drown.  .  .  . 
[80] 


UNCROWNED 

Oh,  Lord, 

It's  cold.     And  how  I  used  to  hate  the  job 
Of  man-handling  the  furnace  back  at  home ! 
I  hate  this  feeling  numb,  and  soaked  as  well, 
All  clammy,  like  an  oyster.     You  can't  drown 
An  oyster,  though ;  and  even  if  you  could, 
I  don't  suppose  he'd  mind.     Well,  do  you  mind  ? 
Wake  up,  you  jackass,  you've  an  hour  left, — 
An  hour,  do  you  hear  ? —  in  which  to  live. 
Think  of  your  past,  the  way  they  do  in  books. 
You've  got  your  chance  to  act  a  leading  part 
In  melodrama.  .  .  . 

Oh  my  Lord,  it's  cold. 
What's  happened  to  the  starboard  light?     Gone 

out, 

Smashed,  maybe,  for  the  water  drives  like  shot. 
Well,  that's  no  matter  either. —  Poor  old  John, 
I  wonder,  does  he  mind  this  getting  drowned  ? 
He  used  to  write  such  funny,  stupid  poems 

[81] 


HIGHLAND   LIGHT 

All  about  life  and  death.     He  didn't  know. 
Does  he  know  now  ?  .  .  . 

We've  just  about  an  hour, 

And  then  —  John's  chance  is  better  than  the  rest, 
He  swims  so  like  a  whale.     Poor  Dicky,  now, 
He'll  go  down  with  a  single  bubbling  grunt ; 
And  as  for  me  —  oh,  I'll  be  drowning  too. 
It's  queer.     Tomorrow  morning,  I  suppose, 
Things  will  go  on,  only  I  won't  be  there 
To  see  them.     Hope  my  body  won't  be  found. 
They'll  have  enough  to  stand  at  home  without 
That  horror. —  Here's  the  biggest  wave  of  all ! 
She's   knocked   clean   over.     Can    she   make    it  ? 

There, 
The  bow  swings  up, —  she's  righting.     Good  old 

John. 

.  .  .  Try  to  remember  that  you're  going  to  die. 
This  is  a  rotten  time  to  be  so  calm, 
But  you'd  think  better  if  you  weren't  so  cold. 

[82] 


UNDROWNED 

Don't  miss  the  chance;  you  can't  do  this  again. 

How  many  vivid  pictures  of  your  past 

You  ought  to  see, —  the  house  where  you  were 

born, 

The  home  you  never  held  quite  dear  enough, 
The  men  you  liked  or  hated,  and  the  girls 
You  never  kissed. —  Now  there's  old  John,  a  poet, 
Or  pretty  nearly  one, —  does  he  see  things  ? 
I'm  damned  if  I  do.     I  don't  want  to  drown, 
Of  course,  but  life  like  this  is  beastly  cold. — 
My  watch  is  in  my  suitcase ;  that's  too  bad, 
It  might  have  stayed  at  home.     Then  —  so  might 

I. 
I  wonder.  .   .  . 

Here,  what's  that  ?     Some  crawling  fool 
Butting  me  in  the  stomach!     Dick?     Of  course 
I  didn't  hear  you.     No.     Speak  louder,  man. 
What's  that?     Oh,  John's  all  in?     Well,  I'll  be 

there. 

[83] 


HIGHLAND   LIGHT 

Wedge  yourself  in  against  the  mast  —  like  that ; 
I'd  hate  to  have  you  drown  ahead  of  time. 
.  .  .  Now  to  get  aft.     It  wouldn't  do  to  stand. 
I'll  fetch  it  somehow.     There's  the  cabin  hatch, 
Leaking  like  hell,  of  course.     The  wheel-box  next. 
Good,  there  it  is.     Here,  John,  unlash  yourself; 
I've  got  the  wheel.     Climb  off  and  go  below. 
No,  you  can't  get  there.     Roll  up  in  your  coat 
There,  down  to  leeward  of  me.     That  will  keep 
Some  of  the  water  off  you.     Good  old  John, 
You've  done  a  bully  trick. —  He  doesn't  hear 
A  word  I  say.     No  matter.  .  .  . 

Thank  the  Lord 

The  binnacle  stays  lighted.     North  by  east 
Half  east.     I  didn't  think  she'd  do  that  well. — 
Hard   over!     Now   swing  back.     God!    it   feels 

good 

To  get  my  fingers  on  the  spokes  once  more. 
No  use  in  it,  of  course,  and  yet  we'll  fight 

[84] 


UNDROWNED 

The  thing  right  to  the  end.     You're  doing  well, 
Old  girl,  and  heaven  knows  you've  stood  enough 
To  smash  you  before  this.     Now  what  a  joke 
If  we  should  stay  alive!     I'll  bet  that  John 
Has  got  his  epitaph  all  studied  out. — 
Hard  over  once  again! — I'll  fool  old  John. 


[851 


FEBRUARY 

LOOK  how  fast  the  snow  is  sifting 

Through  the  close-meshed  sky, 
Silence  on  its  pinions  drifting 

As  the  colors  die ; 
Shadows  gray  to  darkness  stealing 

Gather  round  about ; 
All  the  world  tonight  is  feeling 

Old  and  tired  out. 

Never  mind ;  the  winter's  dullness 

Only  waits  for  spring, 
And  behind  the  snowflakes'  stillness 

Hear  the  robins  sing ; 
Voice  of  leaf  and  grass  and  flower 

Wakened  every  one 

[86] 


FEBRUARY 

Underneath  the  golden  shower 
Of  the  spendthrift  sun. 

There's  a  day  in  June  before  us, 

Lustrous  green  and  blue, 
Winds  like  heartbeats  pulsing  o'er  us 

Quick  with  rapture  new ; 
Can't  you  feel  the  sunshine  glowing, 

Smell  the  good  green  earth 
Breathing  extasy  of  growing 

In  the  spring's  rebirth  ? 

On  that  day  of  days,  together 

You  and  I  will  go 
Out  into  the  gleaming  weather, 

Where,  none  else  shall  know; 
Go  where  centuries  of  beauty 

Crowd  into  a  day, 
Leave  the  world,  and  care,  and  duty 

Endless  miles  away. 
[87] 


HIGHLAND   LIGHT 

Then,  with  all  the  summer's  gladness 

Mirrored  in  your  eyes, 
From  the  woodland's   June-time  madness, 

From  each  bird  that  flies, 
From  the  sunshine,  you'll  discover, 

From  the  skies  above, 
What  it  means  to  have  a  lover, 

What  it  means  to  love. 

So,  we'll  watch  the  tide  of  darkness 

Creeping  through  the  snow, 
Blotting  out  the  houses'  starkness 

In  its  silent  flow. 
We  can  wait  awhile  together  — 

Waiting's  over  soon  — 
Dreaming  of  the  golden  weather 

Of  a  day  in  June. 


[88] 


TWENTY-ONE 

TELL  me  not  of  lovelorn  shades, 

Groping  through  the  world  in  sadness, 

Sickly  youths  and  morbid  maids, 
And  a  love  that  burns  to  madness. 

Underneath  the  cheerful  sun 

Tears  are  pitifully  plenty, 
Logical  at  sixty-one, 

Imbecile  at  one-and-twenty. 

Give  me  all  the  sunlit  air, 

And  a  girl  who  loves  fine  weather, 

And  we'll  wander — who  knows  where  - 
Gaily  through  the  year  together. 


[89] 


WEST  WIND 

GLIDING  athwart  the  misty  years 
Like  the  murmur  of  a  breeze, 

You  breathe  away  the  unshed  tears 
Of  numbed  expectancies. 

We  met  so  oft,  yet  never  met, 
Our  thoughts  dwelt  far  apart, 

Till  suddenly  your  face  was  set 
Like  a  lamp  within  my  heart. 


I  who  was  mute  have  found  new  voice, 
Blinded,  you  bring  me  sight, 

And  wake  my  spirit  to  rejoice 
At  weariness  grown  light. 
[90] 


WEST   WIND 

The  summer  breeze  will  sink  and  die 

As  softly  as  it  came, 
But  the  heart  it  touched  in  passing  by 

Will  never  be  the  same. 


[91] 


DRESSES 

White 

RIPPLING  light  of  a  summer's  day 
Where  the  'west  wind  laughs  as  he  dances  by ; 
The  white  of  your  dress  is  the  clouds  at  play, 
The  hlue  of  your  eyes  is  the  glowing  sky, 
The  gold  of  your  hair  is  the  sunbeam's  ray, 
And  the  wind  that  laughs,  and  the  birds  that  fly, 
And  the  water's  gleam,  and  the  morning  dew, 
And  the  violet's  fragrance,  are  all  in  you. 


Old  Rose 
A  picture  out  of  courtly  France, 

Of  music  and  of  dance, 
Where  lovers'  eyes  caressing  strayed 
O'er  beauties  half-displayed; 
[92] 


DRESSES 

Fragonard  is  it,  or  Watteau, 
Whose  art  you  come  to  show, 

Filling  with  living  loveliness 
Their  miracle  of  dress  ? 

Gray 
Lucky  furs,  that  keep  the  cold  out, 

Keep  you  warm  and  snug, 
There's  a  tempting  hope  they  hold  out 

Of  a  bear-like  hug; 
If  this  hope  does  not  deceive  me, 

Shed  your  furs  of  grey; 
I  can  keep  you  warm,  believe  me, 

Quite  as  well  as  they. 

Green 
The  budding  message  of  the  spring 

Gleams  in  its  folds, 
The  May-time's  happy  welcoming 
Its  texture  holds ; 

[93] 


HIGHLAND  LIGHT 

Bosom  and  shoulders  shining  white 

Through  veil  of  green, 
As  through  the  opening  leaves  the  light 

Of  dawn  is  seen. 

Red 

The  red  rose  breathes  of  passion,  and  the  flame 
Is  red  as  blood ;  both  flame  and  rose  are  you ; 
To  fashion  you  love's  sudden  lightning  came 
To  meet  the  flower's  fragrance,  and  its  hue. 
What  sweetness  have  you  left  in  all  the  rest 
Of  life,  who  took  so  much  for  only  this, 
To  make  me  long  to  hold  you  to  my  breast, 
And  draw  your  soul  out  in  a  blinding  kiss  ? 

Black 

Night  frames  the  moon's  pure  loveliness;  so  here 
The  soft  black  clings  about  your  radiance  clear; 
White  arms  and  neck  and  lustrous  hair,  and  eyes 

[94] 


DRESSES 

Twin  stars  grown  loving  in  the  sombre  skies ; 
You  are  the  moonlight's  magic,  standing  thus, 
Darkness  made  luminous. 


[95] 


APRIL 

THEN  from  the  waking  fields  the  lark  arose 
Soaring,    and    sang    once    more;    the    glancing 

streams 

Laughed  in  the  lazy  sunlight;  and  o'er  all 
There  came  the  warm,   sweet  breathing  of  the 

spring. 

And  now,  from  out  the  wintry  castle  walls 
Rode  forth,  with  flash  of  gold  on  rein  and  spur, 
The  baron  and  his  comrades  to  the  hunt. 
And  through  the  glades  there  rang  the  silver  sound 
Of  horns,  and  the  deep  baying  of  the  dogs, 
And  joyous  call  of  hunter  to  his  mates; 
While  down  on  all  there  smiled  the  kindly  sun. 


[96] 


JULIET 

HE  used  to  wonder  about  Romeo  and  Juliet, 

About  them  and  others  like  them 

Who,  in  a  sudden  glance, 

So  the  poets  maintained,  beheld  each  other  as  the 

sole  centers  of  all  life. 
Then  he  said,  "  It  was  their  youth. 
Long  dreamers  of  love,  passion  made  lovers  of 

them. 

By  youth  alone  is  this  thing  possible, 
Nor  was  I  so  unlike  them,  once." 

So  he  thought,  and  went  about  his  business, 
Teeling  very  old,  and  settled,  and  calm, 
For  what  further  had  he  to  do  with  passion  ? 
Then  —  he  has  never  known  why  — 

[97] 


HIGHLAND   LIGHT 

A  woman  gazed  at  him  steadily  from  eyes  that 

seemed  like  music, 
And   he   felt  his   eyelids   tighten   as   he   looked 

through  her  eyes  into  her  passionate  heart. 
Then  he  knew  that  the  poets  had  seen  the  truth, — 
And  yet  they  were  neither  of  them  young. 


[98] 


THE  TRIUMPH  OF  TAMBURLAINE 
First  there  comes  a  captain: 

BE  glad,  all  ye  that  sorrow,  and  rejoice; 
For  come  is  Tamburlaine,  the  godlike  one. 
And  he  hath  bound  the  seas  beneath  his  sway, 
And  yoked  the  sun  to  draw  his  chariot 
His  voice  is  thunder  and  the  sounding  gale, 
And  as  the  strength  of  morning -is  his  might. 
Make  way,  make  way  for  Tamburlaine  the  Great. 

Then  follows  a  troop  of  captive  kings,  singing: 
Sound  of  chains  that  gnaw  our  hands, 
The  hissing  song  the  whiplash  sings, 
Fit  music  for  a  band  of  kings. 

Barren  and  void  the  altar  stands, 
Our  palaces  are  filled  with  dread, 
Our  homes  are  cities  of  the  dead. 
[99] 


HIGHLAND   LIGHT 

The  gods  lie  broken  through  our  lands, 
They  battled  and  were  overthrown, 
For  Tamburlaine  is  god  alone. 

Then  marches  a  band  of  soldiers,  singing: 
Oh,  the  East  has  bowed  its  head, 

And  the  West  has  feared  to  die, 
And  the  South  with  blood  was  red, 

When  Tamburlaine  passed  by. 

Oh,  the  gods  themselves  have  fled 
From  their  homes  above  the  sky, 

For  their  hearts  were  sick  with  dread 
When  Tamburlaine  passed  by. 

Then,  on  a  golden  car,  comes  Tamburlaine: 
Silence  this  tumult  that  offends  the  skies. 
Why  do  ye  look  on  me  and  call  me  god? 
I  am  no  god.     These  jewels,  what  are  they? 
Ay,  though  they  dim  the  gleaming  star  of  night, 
[100] 


THE   TRIUMPH    OF   TAMBURLAINE 

Of  what  avail  is  all  their  loveliness  ? 
Or  what  will  profit  me  yon  haggard  slaves, 
That  like  mute  oxen  drag  their  weary  limbs? 
I  care  not  for  them,  for  beyond  the  sea, 
Within  the  sunset's  golden  mist  enwrapt, 
There  lies  a  land  that  knows  not  of  my  name ; 
Nor  ever  shall  know,  for  the  veil  of  death 
Will  sink  about  mine  eyes  ere  that  can  be. 
I  cannot  reach  it,  and  all  else  is  nought. 
And  I  am  very  weary  of  my  life, 
Since  life  is  all  too  short  to  reach  the  goal. 
And  still  they  look  on  me  and  call  me  god  I 


[101] 


WITH  A  BOOK  OF  POEMS 

I  HAVE  no  words  to  praise  you;  should  I  speak, 
My  words  would  cast  but  shadows  of  the  truth, 
Faltering  upward,  leaden-footed,  weak, 
They  that  should  rise  on  the  strong  wings  of  youth. 

As  through  night's  darkness  one  beholds  the  sun 
Clear  in  the  eye  of  memory,  whose  sight 
Is  stricken  till  the  glowing  day  is  done, 
So  am  I  blinded  in  your  beauty's  light. 

And,  since  my  love  so  dwarfs  my  utmost  speech, 
I,  who  long  played  with  words,  must  silent  stand ; 
Yet  have  you  taught  me  to  the  skies  to  reach, 
Plucking  the  stars  down  with  unfaltering  hand, 

And  making  poets  of  old  my  service  do, 
Since,  whatsoe'er  they  wrote,  they  dreamed  of  you. 
[102] 


FOUR  SONGS 

I 

LIGHT  of  the  world, 

Yet  from  her  eyes  shine  forth  the  fairer  rays, 
A  wonder  of  imagined  days, 

Silent  and  deep. 

Light  of  my  world, 

Yet  shall  the  dimmer  rays  outshine  your  eyes, 
When  all  your  luminous  magic  lies 

In  dreamless  sleep. 

II 

I  looked  upon  the  wonder  of  thine  eyes, 
And  saw  fair  Love  enthroned  there  like  a  star ; 
Love  quivered  in  thy  voice  as  from  afar 
The  singing  of  a  lark  in  sunlit  skies. 

[103] 


HIGHLAND   LIGHT 

I  saw  the  inmost  temple  of  thy  heart, 
The  shrine  of  Love,  but  Love  I  found  not  there; 
He  mocked  me  from  thy  lips  and  gleaming  hair, 
And  so  we  two  in  bitterness  must  part. 

Ill 

The  Two  Loves 

In  eager  hope  I  fled  to  love  and  thee: 
I  never  knew  that  joy  could  die  so  fast; 
A  mocking  future  and  a  phantom  past, 
No  more  is  left  to  me. 

The  breathless  silence  of  the  silent  night, 
The  level  reaches  of  the  swaying  sea 
Are  in  thine  eyes,  and  mirrored  there  for  me 
Is  Love's  own  perfect  light. 

IV 

She  does  not  love  me, 
She  whom  I  love  so  much,  but  like  a  star 
[104] 


FOUR  SONGS 

Goes  on  her  way,  my  only  heaven,  so  far  — 
A  world  —  above  me. 

The  dewdrop  all  in  vain 
Longs  for  the  bosom  of  the  heedless  cloud; 
Such  love  have  I,  and,  loving  her,  am  proud  - 

And  pride  is  near  to  pain. 


[105] 


A  VILLANELLE  OF  THE  GALLOWS 

(Old  French) 

THE  Wind  of  Death  through  the  darkness  moans, 
The  Devil  sits  by  the  leafless  tree. 

The  leafless  tree  it  creaks  and  groans 

Beneath  its  heavy  burdens  three, 

The  Wind  of  Death  through  the  darkness  moans. 

Its  burdens  fleshless  corpses  be, 

The  hungry  birds  have  picked  their  bones, 

The  Devil  sits  by  the  leafless  tree. 

He  calls  them  down  with  mocking  tones, 
As  on  the  whirlwind  dance  the  three, 
The  Wind  of  Death  through  the  darkness  moans. 
[106] 


A   VILLANELLE   OF   THE   GALLOWS 

The  first  a  thief  of  low  degree, 
His  puny  soul  the  demon  owns, 
The  Devil  sits  by  the  leafless  tree. 

Beside  him  rattle  a  murderer's  bones, 
And  scorched  in  hell  his  soul  shall  be, 
The  Wind  of  Death  through  the  darkness  moans. 

The  third  from  battle  once  did  flee, 
Fearing  the  shafts  and  whizzing  stones, 
The  Devil  sits  by  the  leafless  tree. 

His  soul  beneath  the  gibbet  groans, 

And  dreads  whate'er  its  fate  may  be, 

The  Wind  of  Death  through  the  darkness  moans. 

But  barred  from  hell  that  soul  shall  be, 
Nor  heaven  shall  rest  the  coward's  bones, 
The  Devil  sits  by  the  leafless  tree. 

[107] 


HIGHLAND   LIGHT 

Forever  'neath  the  tree  it  groans, 

Nor  hell  nor  heaven  it  dares  to  see. 

The  Wind  of  Death  through  the  darkness  moans, 

The  Devil  sits  by  the  leafless  tree. 


[108] 


THE  CARAVAN 

ON  through  the  burning  sand, 

Under  the  burning  sky, 

With  the  sun  like  a  glowing  brand, 

And  the  hot  winds  singing  by, 

Where  for  endless  miles  on  either  hand 

The  shimmering  deserts  lie. 

Night  stalks  over  the  plain, 
And  the  blinding  whirlwinds  roar; 
A  cry  for  rest  from  pain, 
And  the  town  that  waits  before ; 
At  the  journey's  end  to  turn  again 
And  face  the  sands  once  more. 


[109] 


THE  QUESTION- 
LOVE,  when  you  and  I  are  dead, 
Shall  our  souls  be  lovers  yet, 
And  remember,  or  forget  ? 

Love,  when  you  and  I  are  old, 
Are  there  roses  in  the  fall, 
Or  is  springtime  past  recall  ? 

Now,  when  you  and  I  are  young, 
Bare  we  trust  a  distant  year, 
Shall  we  hope,   or  shall  we  fear? 


[110] 


LONELINESS 

THE  throngs  go  by,  nor  tell  me  where  they  go; 

They  move  as  in  a  dream, 
As  shadows  which  I  know  yet  cannot  know. 

In  mute,  phantasmal  train 

Their  pantomime  sweeps  on  and  on  again, 
A  show  where  nothing  is,  and  all  things  seem. 

What  solitude  of  tempest-cradled  isle 

Could  ever  be  so  drear? 
Men  come  and  go,  and  all  with  joyless  smile 

In  silentness  pass  by. 

I  wonder,  will  they  turn  when  I  shall  die 
To  mark  one  lost  among  the  shadows  here. 


[Ill] 


THE  LOVE  POTION. 

(After  the  German  of  Gottfried  von  Strassburg) 
Circa  1200 

EASTWARD  from  Ireland  sailed  Tristan  forth, 

And  with  him  Iseult,  but  the  queen  spoke  not, 

Weeping  and  grieving  sore,  that  from  her  land, 

Where  she  knew  people,  and  from  all  her  friends 

She  now  was  gone,  and  with  a  stranger  folk 

Was  faring  to  a  land  she  did  not  know. 

And  Tristan  ever  strove  to  comfort  her, 

But  Iseult  held  her  peace,  for  still  she  thought 

Upon  her  kinsman  Morolt,  slain  of  old 

By  Tristan's  sword.     But,  for  he  sought  full  oft 

To  know  the  reason  of  her  silence,  sudden 

She  spoke  to  him,  and  told  him  of  her  thoughts. 

"  And  could  atonement  for  my  kinsman's  death 
Be  made,  and  were  it  made,"  she  said,  "  no  less 
[112] 


THE   LOVE   POTION 

Should  you  be  hated  of  me.     I  was  free 

Of  care  and  sorrow  till  you  came  to  us, 

And  you  alone  have  brought  this  sadness  down, 

With  craft  and  daring,  on  me.     Oh,  what  fate 

Sent  you  from  Cornwall  into  Ireland 

To  work  me  harm  ?     From  those  who  cared  for  me 

Since  childhood  have  you  taken  me ;  and  now 

Lead  me  I  know  not  where.     How  I  was  bought 

To  be  the  loveless  bride  of  yon  King  Mark 

I  know  not,  nor  what  waits  in  store  for  me." 

Then  Tristan,  heavy-hearted,  left  the  queen 
Amid  her  maidens,  but  ere  long  she  sent 
To  speak  with  him  "again;  and  as  the  hours 
Passed  softly  by,  she  kept  him  at  her  side; 
And  though  her  lips  spoke  only  of  her  grief, 
Another  voice  was  speaking  in  her  heart. 

So  they  sailed  ever  onward,  and  the  sea 
And  wind  alike  were  fair;  but  soon  the  maids, 
[113] 


HIGHLAND   LIGHT 

Iseult  and  her  companions,  never  fain 
Of  wind  and  ware,  were  sore  in  need  of  rest. 
Then  Tristan  bade  them  put  to  land  awhile, 
To  find  a  harbor,  and  the  company 
Scattered  along  the  shore ;  but  Tristan  Went 
To  greet  his  lady  fair,  and  at  her  side 
He  stood,  and  as  they  talked  of  this  and  that 
He  called  for  wine. 

Now,  saving  for  the  queen, 
Were  none  but  little  damsels  in  the  ship; 
And  one  said,  "  See,  here  in  this  flask  is  wine." 
It  was  not  wine  that  stood  therein,  though  like 
In  hue  and  taste,  but  pain,  and  bitter  grief, 
And  endless  longing  of  the  heart,  whereof 
They  two  at  last  should  die. 

But  of  all  this 

The  little  maid  knew  nought,  so  straight  she  went 

To  where  the  flask  was  hid,  and  brought  it  forth, 

[114] 


THE   LOVE   POTION 

And  gave  to  Tristan.     Then  he  poured,  and  gave 
The  cup  to  Iseult.     All  unknowingly 
She  drank,  and  soon  she  gave  the  cup  again, 
And  Tristan  drank,  and  neither  knew  the  draught 
For  aught  but  wine.     And  on  the  sudden  came 
The  servant  Brangaene,  and  she  saw  the  flask, 
And  knew  what  ill  was  done.     And  all  her  strength 
Was  reft  from  her  by  fear,  and  she  was  pale 
As  death,  and  in  her  breast  her  heart  lay  dead. 
Then  straight  she  seized  the  evil-working  flask, 
And  cast  it  forth  into  the  midmost  sea. 

"  Oh  wretched  me !  "  she  said  within  herself, 
"  That  ever"  I  was  born  into  this  world ! 
Oh  miserable !  now  how  have  I  lost 
Honor,  and  broken  faith !     Oh,  would  to  Gt>d 
That  I  had  never  come  upon  this  journey, 
That  death  had  taken  me  before  I  sailed 
This  evil  voyage  with  Iseult!     Now  alas, 
Tristan  and  Iseult,  for  the  drink  is  death." 
[115] 


HIGHLAND   LIGHT 

Now,  when  the  maiden  and  the  man,  Iseult 
And  Tristan,  both  had  drunk,  then  suddenly 
Came  love,  who  layeth  siege  to  every  heart, 
And  never  rests,  and  in  their  hearts  he  crept. 
And  ere  they  knew  he  raised  his  banners  there, 
And  held  them  both  his  subjects.     They  were  now 
But  one  and  undivided,  who  before 
Were  two,  and  foes.     The  hate  that  Iseult  bore 
To  him  was  gone.     The  reconciler,  love, 
Had  purified  their  hearts  from  all  ill-will, 
And  joined  them  so  that  each  unto  the  other 
Was  clear  as  is  a  mirror.     But  one  heart 
Had  both ;  her  sadness  was  his  grief,  his  grief 
Her  sadness.     Both  were  one  in  love  and  sorrow ; 
Yet  both  would  keep  it  hid,  in  doubt  and  shame. 
For  howsoever  blindly  were  their  hearts 
Bent  to  one  will,  the  chance  and  the  beginning 
Were  heavy  to  them ;  so  they  strove  alike 
To  hide  their  longing. 

[116] 


THE   LOVE  POTION 

Tristan,  when  he  felt 

This  love,  straightway  bethought  him  of  his  faith 
And  honor  to  his  lord;  and  fain  would  turn 
And  free  himself.     Thus  vainly  did  he  strive 
Against  his  longing ;  would  what  he  would  not ; 
And  like  a  captive  struggled  in  his  bonds. 
So  went  the  strife  in  him,  for  when  he  looked 
In  Iseult's  eyes,  and  sweet  love  stirred  his  heart 
And  drew  his  soul,  then  ever  did  he  feel 
How  honor  held  him  back.     But  love  at  last, 
For  now  he  was  love's  vassal,  won  his  heart, 
And  made  him  follow ;  and  although  in  truth 
His  honor  smote  him  sore,  far  sorer  still 
Love  wounded  him  than  faith  and  honor  both. 
Unwillingly  he  followed  where  love  led, 
But  ever  as  he  looked  into  his  heart, 
He  found  there  only  Iseult  and  his  love. 
And  so  it  was  with  Iseult.     When  she  knew 
That  love  indeed  had  bound  her,  like  a  bird 

[117] 


HIGHLAND   LIGHT 

Caught  in  a  net  she  struggled  to  be  free, 
And  so  the  net  entangled  her  anew. 
The  more  she  sought  to  cast  the  net  aside, 
The  more  the  bonds  were  tightened  by  the  might 
And  blinding  sweetness  of  the  man,  and  love. 
Shame  drove  her  eyes  away  from  him,  and  love 
Drew  her  heart  ever  to  him.     So  the  maid 
Still  strove  against  the  man  she  loved,  and  still 
Did  maiden  shame  grow  weak  before  her  1'ove. 

Then  Iseult  wearied  of  the  hopeless  strife, 
And  vanquished,  as  full  many  more  have  been, 
She  yielded  up  her  body  and  her  soul 
To  Tristan  and  to  love. 

Shyly  she  looked 

Upon  him,  and  her  clear  eyes  spoke  her  heart, 
Till  heart  and  eyes  had  done  their  work.     With 

love 

And  tenderness  he  looked  on  her,  for  he 
Tn  turn  had  yielded  to  his  love,  and  her. 
[118] 


THE   LOVE  POTION 

Lady  and  knight,  so  often  as  they  could, 
Were  still  with  one  another,  and  each  day 
They  found  each  other  fairer  than  before. 
For  this  is  love's  true  way,  as  it  is  now, 
And  has  been,  and  shall  be  while  love  endures, 
That  still  among  all  lovers  each  shall  please 
The  other  more  as  love  within  them  grows, 
Even  as  fruits  and  flowers  are  more  lovely 
In  fulness  than  in  birth.     So  fruitful  love 
Grows  fairer  from  the  first ;  such  is  love's  seed, 
That  ever  brings  its  harvest. 

So  beneath 

A  cloudless  sky  the  ship  sailed  on,  though  love 
Had   turned   two   hearts   therein   from   off  their 

course. 

And  each  knew  what  was  in  the  other's  heart, 
And  yet  their  talk  was  all  of  other  things. 


[119] 


THE  WITCH-CHILD 

I  WANDERED  through  the  gloomy  shade, 
Where  each  to  each  the  tree-tops  sing; 
And  in  a  cave  I  found  a  maid, 
A  loathly,  witch-bora  thing. 

I  hated  her,  yet  spoke  her  fair; 
She  smiled,  if  such  a  thing  could  smile ; 
And  then  she  cursed  and  left  me  there, — 
Yet  had  she  grown  less  vile. 

I  met  her  in  a  silent  glen; 
Less  grim  a  thing  she  was  to  meet; 
Again  I  softly  spoke,  and  then 
She  smiled.     Her  smile  was  sweet. 
[120] 


THE   WITCH-CHILD 

I  met  her  in  the  dreaming  wood; 
Her  cruel  eyes  had  grown  full  mild ; 
Once  more  I  spoke ;  and  lo,  she  stood 
A  lovely  fairy  child. 


[121] 


LESBIA 

(After  the  Latin  of  Catullus) 

MY  Lesbia,  let  us  live,  and  let  us.  love ; 
Be  sure,  the  warnings  of  the  wise  are  worth 
No  passing  thought,  for  though,  the  sun  above 
May  set,  he  conies  again  to  light  the  earth ; 
But  when  our  passing  sunlight  wanes, 
One  night  of  endless  sleep  remains. 

Give  me  a  thousand  kisses,  then  a  score, 
A  hundred,  then  another  score,  and  yet 
Another  hundred,  tnen  a  thousand  more, — 
And  then  their  number  let  us  both  forget, 

That  envy  may  not  ever  see 

How  many  kisses  there  can  be. 


[122] 


HAKVARD  SONG 

WE  have  journeyed  to  thee  from  the  ends  of  the 
earth; 

Thou  hast  brought  the  clear  day  out  of  night, 
With  the  strength  of  our  fathers,  whose  might  was 
thy  birth, 

And  whose  faith  is  thy  radiance  bright. 
We  reap  where  they  sowed ;  their  toil  is  our  gain ; 

We  rejoice  through  their  hopes  and  their  fears ; 
We  are  strong  in  the  sorrow  of  ages  of  pain, 

And  the  might  of  invincible  years. 


Now  the  morning  leaps  up  from  -the  rim  of  the 

world, 

And  we  stand  face  to  face  with 'the  day; 
[123] 


HIGHLAND   LIGHT 

The  brave  banner  of  dawn  through  the  sky  is  un- 
furled;— 

We  must  go,  for  it  calls  us  away. 
The  treasures  that  years  have  laid  in  our  care 

We  may  hold  but  to  give  them  again; 
Shall  we  fail,  in  the  glory  that  thrills  through  the 

air? 
We  are  strong ;  let  us  rise  and  bi  men. 


[124] 


SLIPS  OF  THE  PEN 


BALLADE  OF  LENT 

Now  all  our  cheerful  days  are  spent, 

Alas,  the  calendars  declare; 
They  gaily  came  and  swiftly  went, 

Those  days  so  bright,  so  debonair ! 

And  now  a  season  bleak  and  bare 
Upon  us  for  our  sins  is  sent, 

And  we  must  live  on  meager  fare 
For  forty  days,  for  this  is  Lent. 


Bright  gowns  of  colors  gaily  blent 
No  more,  alas,  our  loved  ones  wear; 

For  dainty  sweets  or  roses'  scent 
No  longer  do  they  seem  to  care, 
They  do  not  decorate  their  hair, 
[127] 


HIGHLAND   LIGHT 

Or  not  to  any  great  extent; ' 

Oh,  what  a  wearisome  affair 
Has  life  become,  now  this  is  Lent! 

They  go  in  search  of  discontent 

In  place  of  joys  they  used  to  share, 
And  toil  up  virtue's  steep  ascent, 

Eschewing  all  they  found  most  fair; 

For  pleasure  has  become  a  snare, 
And  all  are  resolutely  bent 

On  demonstrating  virtue  where 
It  shows  the  most,  for  this  is  Lent. 


Dear  Ladies,  we  are  well  aware 
You  join  with  us  in  our  lament; 

So  let  us  hopefully  prepare 
For  joys  that  follow  after  Lent. 

[128] 


THE  COST  OF  LIVING 

ECONOMY'S  a  dying  art 

For  those  who  in  the  city  dwell; 
The  cost  of  life  there  broke  my  hearty 

And  broke  me  other  ways  as  well. 

A  country  inn  I  hunted  down, 
A  place  I  thought  I  could  afford; 

But  when  they  heard  I  came  from  town, 
The  natives  raised  the  price  of  board. 

To  tropic  climes  I  made  a  dash, 
But  Yankee  industry  had  come; 

It  took  away  my  ready  cash, 
And  left  me  hollow  as  a  drum. 

I  made  the  frozen  North  my  goal, 

In  hopes  to  find  things  cheaper  there; 
[129] 


HIGHLAND   LIGHT 

But  the  discovery  of  the  pole 
Had  hit  the  price  of  polar  bear. 

And  now  I  have  a  single  thought, 
To  seek  out  some  uncharted  isle, 

Till  fishes  charge  for  being  caught, 

And  birds  have  learned  to  make  their  pile. 


[130] 


QUAM  MINIME  CREDULUS  POSTEEO 

FM  quite  in  love  with  you  today, 

(When  the  sun  shines,  then  make  hay) 

I'd  do  most  anything  you  say, 

(Gather  your  roses  while  you  may). 


I'll  buy  you  tickets  for  the  play, 

(When  the  sun  shines,  then  make  hay) 

I'll  drive  you  in  my  one-hoss-shay, 
(Gather  your  roses  while  you  may). 


And  when  I  call  I'll  stay  and  stay, 

(When  the  sun  shines,  then  make  hay) 

And  swear  it  hurts  to  go  away, 

(Gather  your  roses  while  you  may). 
[131] 


HIGHLAND   LIGHT 

I'll  kneel,  and  rant,  and  whine,  and  pray, 
(When  the  sun  shines,  then  make  hay) 

And  act  just  like  a  perfect  jay, 
(Gather  your  roses  while  you  may). 

Only  remember  that  I  may  — 

(For  when  the  sun  shines,  I  make  hay) 
Not  be  in  love  another  day, 

(So  gather  roses  while  you  may). 


[132] 


A  SPKING  SONG 

THE  houndg  of  spring  are  on  winter's  track,- 
This  phrase  may  not  seem  wholly  new, — 

And  I  am  prostrate  on  my  back, 
Thinking  of  all  I  ought  to  do. 

The  earth  in  green  is  now  arrayed, 
The  buds  are  bursting  on  the  trees; 

And  I  am  certain  I  was  made 
Expressly  for  a  life  of  ease. 

Now  lovers,  strolling  hand  in  hand, 
Gaze  at  the  friendly  moon  on  high ; 

And  I  should  like  to  understand 
Wiry  every  one  can  loaf  but  I. 
[133] 


A   SPRING   SONG 

Oh,  Lord,  your  spring  is  bright  and  gay, 
And  sweet  and  soft  and  warm  and  fair ; 

But  get  it  over  quick,  I  pray, 
Or  else  make  me  a  millionaire. 


[134] 


PBOSPICE 

SOME  day  when  I  have  lots  of  time,  and  nothing 
else  to  do, 

I  think  that  I  will  fall  in  love, —  and  fall  in  love 
with  you. 

Just  now  I  don't  believe  I  could,  my  work  dis- 
tracts me  so, 

And  then  one  can't  afford  it  when  one's  bank- 
account  is  low. 

But  when  my  work  is  mostly  done,  and  pay-day 
comes  around, 

The  words   "  I   am  engaged "   will  have   a  most 
enticing  sound. 

And  then  —  well,  one  thing  anyway  is  certain  to 
be  true, 

And  that  is,  if  I  fall  in  love,  I'll  fall  in  love  with 
you. 

[135] 

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